AvP: Desiderata
by Quietharm
Summary: This takes place at the end of the book Alien v. Predator: Prey, and diverges from the books following that. Machiko Noguchi goes back to Earth and her homeworld is suddenly the focus of a mass invasion. What happened to Dachande?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so here's the first chapter! Not much to say; I just wanted to attempt to make a good ending for AvP: Prey. I don't know if I can accomplish that or not, but I'll sure try. Please R&R!

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

**Chapter One:**

**Present Grief**

Excerpt from Desiderata:

"_Nurture the strength of spirit  
to shield you in sudden misfortune.  
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.  
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.  
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.  
You are a child of the universe,  
no less than the trees and the stars:  
you have a right to be here.  
And whether or not it is clear to you,  
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."  
_

-Max Erhmann

* * *

"I'll remember you."

Her own words played back to her mind like a haunting mantra. She felt something prick at the corners of her eyes, and immediately her head turned sharply to regard the vastness of space through a portal to her right. A few free clumps of space dust drifted by about a kilometer from her position inside the _Luther_, and she stared as her vision swam with the unwanted threat of tears.

Machiko Noguchi shook her head roughly to clear it.

She didn't need to be remembering this, not now. She was returning to Earth after a long and perilous time away, and in some far recess of her mind she was amazed that she had survived it all _at all_.

Unbidden, the memories coalesced into something tangible and still horribly recent, despite the fact that the event had been more than three months ago.

She had named him Broken Tusk, a creature not of her world. The name came from the fact that he had a broken lower mandible on his crab-like face. In turn, he had named her Dahtoudi when it proved difficult for him to pronounce her human name. He and his powerful kin had come to the planet owned by the company she worked for to Hunt the black creatures - bugs, as she later called them - when it all went horribly wrong.

Granted, had Broken Tusk's people never planted the eggs of the onyx aliens she would have never had to deal with the problem in the first place. It warred with her now, that knowledge. She could have been promoted if the chaos on Ryushi had never erupted, possibly climbing her way to a more comfortable position on Chigusa's corporate ladder.

On the other hand, she would have never met Broken Tusk.

She oversaw the business operations on Ryushi before the predators ever came. It was a desert planet, full of ranchers and their families who would keep great herds of Rhynth. When compared to the creatures of Earth, Rhynth best resembled ridable rhinoceros. It was her function in the company to make sure everything ran smoothly - and at that she failed horribly. She could attest the same to Broken Tusk. He too was a leader, but things had gotten out of hand for them both once his ship landed on Ryushi. Broken Tusk was injured on the initial landing of his ship, and the hunters he was supposed to be in charge of went wild.

They began hunting not only the black aliens they had planted there beforehand, but Machiko's employees as well. In the meantime, Broken Tusk was found and brought back to the medical lab in the colony where he was revived.

Against all odds, the two paired up in a desperate race to win back the world from both Broken Tusk's errant underlings and the lethal bugs.

It was Broken Tusk who killed the former student who had assumed a leadership role and misdirected his kind in attacking the ranchers and their families. It was Dahtoudi who had beheaded the alien queen by closing the escape hatch to their small ship as they attempted an escape. The queen had been trying to kill them still, sticking her head into the escape pod. It was her last mistake.

Machiko sighed, feeling bone-settling weariness seep into her shoulders. She was aboard the _Luther_ now, a ship owned by Chigusa's company. The old man was powerful and owned many planets. His evacuation of Ryushi immediately after the disturbance had been settled was merely a tax write-off, while her own executive contract had been bought out. She was still an employee of Chigusa, but after she saw Broken Tusk breathe his last she had the sudden desire to find operations Earthside.

It was odd, and still troubled her. Broken Tusk had suffered mortal wounds in his battle with the black queen before she could reach him. He had been dying after she beheaded the alien and took to the air in the escape pod, but by the time she had landed in a safe spot he was barely conscious. In a move that surprised her, he had used the last of his strength in marking her on the forehead with the alien queen's acidic finger. It was a mark that mirrored the one adorning his own temple, alien though it was. It seemed important to him at the time, and she was not one to refuse him last rites. He had saved her life and he his, and there was a definite respect there.

After the initial pain of the acid upon her skin, Broken Tusk's hand fell back helplessly and he played a loop on his translator that he had recorded from her earlier.

"I'll remember you."

He looked at her then, poignantly. She didn't know what his expression meant or how to take it, for she was crying openly for him. When an explosion hit the ranching community of Prosperity Wells behind her, her attention was momentarily redirected. The town was shrouded in flames and smoke, and she knew she was needed there immediately.

Her head rotated back to Broken Tusk, to regard him one last time. There was nothing she could do to save him, all medical equipment they had now was not advanced enough to perform such a feat.

Besides, he was gone.

With her lashes coated in tears and blurred vision, she swore vehemently to return for his body before she took off for the explosion that had created a mushroom cloud on the horizon. The shockwave blew across the desert, blasting the woman and her fallen comrade with a breath of heated air. Dahtoudi's arms pumped at the sides of her already exhausted body, giving her an adrenaline she would need to reach the colony. Hopping into the escape pod, she turned on the engines and zipped away to Prosperity Wells - or what remained of it. She helped the ranchers save who they could, and they salvaged whatever supplies was left to them on the outskirts of the burning inferno.

Eight hours later, she returned for Broken Tusk's body. It had vanished.

She scouted the area for many days after that, but nothing could be found. No hint, clue, or material possession of his turned up. It was almost like he had never existed, save for the telltale sign of his mark on her forehead. It sat with her badly that she could not even give him a proper burial, after all he had done for them. Furthermore, there was the heavy guilt upon her heart that some scavengers of the planet had found him before she could return, which was the most likely scenario. Ryushi was a hard place to live, and an even harder place to forget.

She would never forget Broken Tusk. Never.

She needed a cigarette, and not because it gave her some sense of rebelliousness due to her father's disapproval of the habit. Reaching out to the glass coffee table before her, she opened a pack and pulled the ashtray closer to her person with her freehand. Trembling fingers brought one end of a lone wrap of tobacco to her full lips, and she inhaled deeply after lighting the opposite end.

Hazy smoke circled overhead, and her weariness multiplied tenfold as a pleasant feeling overtook her. It temporarily drove away her demons, real and imagined. A second puff and cursory glance about her quarters made her sigh again.

Earth. She was headed home. Two months following the disaster on Ryushi, Chigusa had sent a passenger ship to take the survivors to a new location in the Rigel system. Some opted out entirely of that option, preferring instead to return to Earth as quickly as possible. At first, the prospect of returning to Tokyo filled Machiko with joy. She could leave the desert, leave Ryushi's God-forsaken landscape and memories behind. At the same time, she was filled with the need to remain there. Broken Tusk had marked her, and she had no small doubt that the rest of his people were coming to find out what happened to he and his group at some point in time. Broken Tusk's bravery, skill and loyalty inspired something in Dahtoudi that went beyond the mark she bore on her forehead. If there were more like Broken Tusk, then she could tell his story. It was the least she could do to honor his memory.

However, that was not to be the case. Broken Tusk's body had disappeared and it had been her fault. She dishonored him by leaving him to rot, even though her colony needed her. Even though the story of their bravery in battle was great, her abandonment of his person was not. She blamed herself for this, and that wound ran deep. She no longer deserved the name Dahtoudi. She was now Machiko Noguchi, a Japanese woman and native of Tokyo. Never had she been more than that.

_Coward. You're running away. That's even fucking worse._

Machiko ignored the voice and the hand holding the cigarette snuffed it out in the ashtray with perhaps even more force than was necessary.

After those ranchers that had wanted to start anew in the Rigel system had been unloaded with extra supplies, she had stayed aboard with those who wanted nothing but a quick route back to Earth. They had tarried on the new planet for a few weeks, getting everything ready for the new colonists. Only a week ago now had they departed, which brought her up to her present situation aboard the _Luther_.

The air was a bit more cloudy now because of the lingering fog left by the cigarette. Machiko stood, left the low couch in the living area and crossed a short distance to a kitchen unit in the same room. She removed a glass from one of the overhead compartments, and bid the computer a quick command to execute a stream of ice-cold liquid into the glass via a dispenser located on the wall. As she sipped the water thoughtfully, a small smile pulled her lips ever upward.

In another week she would finally see her parents again. It had been quite some time since she last saw them in person, and it would be a relief to them to see her whole. She would begin again, just as the colonists did in the Rigel system. Chigusa hadn't completely dropped her from his employee base after the investigation into the deaths of his employees on Ryushi was cleared. She could live with her parents until she was on her feet again, and buy an apartment close to the offices where she was being reassigned. She wouldn't be an executive anymore, but she was thankful to have a job at all.

There would be shopping to do, relatives to see, walks in the park - things normal humans did. Normal humans did not blow out the brains of black XT's. They certainly did not ally themselves with them, either.

It abruptly struck her then how she had done both.

More somber now, Machiko set her emptied glass down on the stainless steel counter of the kitchen island, and headed for the small bedroom just off the main living quarters. She was exhausted again, tired of thinking about things she could change and couldn't. She undressed, slipped into her nightwear and crawled beneath the thin sheets of the single bed. The computer took her command to cut the lights, and then she slowly closed her eyes.

Dimly, like a long-suppressed echo in the back of her brain, she thought she heard a series of resonating clicks that faded from cognizance once sleep found her.

* * *

"Machiko."

The addressee turned at the sound of her mother calling her name. "I am in here, Okaa-san."

Mrs. Noguchi turned the corner, poking her head into the family's den to focus her eyes critically on her only daughter. The older woman's pale hands were encased in padded oven mitts, and she held a metal pan of fresh brownies that still radiated with heat. Machiko's mother was a small woman to many, but rather average for a Japanese female. Her five foot frame was rather plump, and decidedly matronly upon first impressions.

"You need to get out and do more. All you do every night is watch the news before going to sleep." Mrs. Noguchi's tone was admonishing, but clearly worried. It was just unhealthy to develop such a robotic routine as her daughter had.

"I'm fine, Okaa-san. You and Otou-san took me to meet everyone the first week since I've arrived. I'm just a little burned out." The woman on the couch ran a hand through her shaggy blue-black hair and gave the woman in the doorway a look that was meant to convey reassurance.

Unfortunately, her mother was not buying it.

"Machiko…" her mother drawled, blatantly nonplussed by her daughter's refusal to see her point. "Come into the kitchen and shut that thing off. These brownies are nearly cooled."

From her position on the couch, Machiko raised a dark eyebrow but finally sighed in resignation. "Exit program," she said regretfully, loud and clear. The large flat screen before her flickered to black, throwing the newscaster into a non-existent void.

As she entered the kitchen, the smell of brownies assaulted her nose. It was much stronger here than in the adjoining den. Her mother had her back to Machiko, and was busily employed in the process of cutting up her final product. "I'm not that hungry," she grumbled.

"You don't need to eat them, Machi-chan. Your father will undoubtedly do that when he gets home from work. Talk to me instead. I'm worried about you."

Inwardly, Machiko groaned. Her mother was resorting to an old nickname that she had been appointed as a young child. When would she finally come to accept that Noguchi Machiko was a grown woman? "There is nothing to discuss, Okaa-san. I told you, I'm perfectly fine… just a bit tired."

The older Noguchi woman turned to appraise the younger most skeptically, but at last allowed the matter to drop. Stepping around the table, Machiko's mother went to retrieve some forks and dessert plates. Machiko rolled her eyes at the sight of two plates and forks while Mrs. Noguchi's back was once more presented to her line of sight, but once again fell back into her carefully blank expression when her mother turned and started back for the table.

Busying herself with placing the squares of brownie on the two separate plates now, Mrs. Noguchi changed gears and broached her daughter with a new topic. "Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Uchida down the street?"

Vague recollections of names and faces returned to Machiko from a time before XT's of any kind factored into her life. Frowning slightly she replied, "Your old jogging partner?"

"Right. Kouhei's mother."

Machiko nearly dropped the fork she had accepted from her mother a moment prior. She paled, and then her eyebrows drew together as storm clouds gathered in her eyes. "Okaa-san…" she trailed warningly.

Mrs. Noguchi raised her eyes, brows lifted. She appeared ignorant of the forbidden territory in which she was treading, but the opposite was actually true. She knew what she was doing. "What? He's a nice boy, and graduated University only a year before you. I thought you two got along quite nicely. He is still unmarried, did you know that? Uchida Mai says it's because he's a workaholic like you, but I'm sure _some _time could be found…"

Machiko could hear no more. Raising one hand to quell her meddlesome mother's further comments, she shook her head quickly. "I can't believe you…"

"Machiko, look at me." Her mother interrupted her swiftly, in a tone that was meant to brook no argument.

Machiko sighed and acquiesced to Mrs. Noguchi's orders. She looked up defiantly.

Noguchi Kaede glared back at her willful and only child. "You nearly died for your work not too long ago. You couldn't go down the street without people talking about what happened on Ryushi. Your father and I worried each and every day of it. Will there ever come a time when you will think about something besides your career? It's just not right. You're losing your humanity with how closed off you've become."

_Great. First the ranchers, and now my own mother is calling me a cold bitch._

"It's not that easy!" Machiko cried, standing bolt upright and forgetting about the cooling brownie on the plate before her. "You can't just…"

"Noguchi Machiko, do not speak to me in that tone!" her mother countered severely. Tucking a graying wisp of dark hair back into the bun at the nape of her neck, Mrs. Noguchi shook her head and turned away from Machiko with a dismissive wave of her freehand.

"I sincerely hope you do not come to a point in your life when you realize that you missed out on the best parts." It was her mother's parting barb as Machiko swung on her heel and stiffly left the kitchen for her old bedroom.

It was much like she had left it when she attended Gakushuin Girls' High School before University, and she found it strangely comforting that her parents had left it intact. Her father was a CEO of Ashiga Corp., a sister company to Chigusa Corp. Both companies prided themselves on their quantities of obtained planets for research, agriculture and ranching. As such, Machiko had grown up the daughter of a wealthy businessman who easily found her a position in Chigusa once she graduated University. After the mess on Ryushi, however, she had no doubt that it was her father's influence that had kept her with Chigusa at all.

She had been home for nearly two weeks and tomorrow she was required to return to work tomorrow at six a.m.

Like she used to do when she was a teen, Machiko stood at the foot of her bed with her back to it. Her arms went out to her sides, and she flopped backwards. As her body hit the bed heavily, she was left staring blankly up at the ceiling. Was this what she really wanted? Why did something tell her that coming back was the wrong decision? What if she had waited for the predators to return for Broken Tusk…

…and where would she be now if Broken Tusk had lived?

_Probably no where you'd want to be, Machi-chan,_ her mind mocked.

Rolling over on her stomach to stare at the digital interface of the clock beside her bed, she couldn't help but wonder why Earth was suddenly the last place she wanted to be.

"Visual, please."

The large screen on the wall before her bed popped to life, and she was left staring at the same anchorman she had left in the den when her mother had called her away. He appeared much the same, but at the same time remarkably different.

The lone news anchor stared at the camera like a drowning man. He was noticeably paler than usual, despite the fact that the studio lights in his location usually brightened his complexion on any given day. Machiko noticed the frenzied fidgeting of his fingers as they took hold of papers on his desk, before dropping the sheets and steepling his digits together in various formations.

"We're on aga…" he muttered, his head turned sideways in profile. At once he broke off, whipped his head forward, and forced a thin smile to the camera. "Welcome back, this is Nobunaga Yuu. We have breaking news at this point, if everyone would be stay tuned to this channel…"

Machiko was suddenly motionless, the proverbial deer in headlights.

"It appears there are several foreign bodies… they appear to be ships… orbiting in close to our solar system. Envoys have been deployed to investigate the matter, but they lost contact with the fourteen cruisers just off Triton, near Neptune. All contact was severed at the same time, which only adds to the oddity of this matter. At this point we have word that as many as fifty of these foreign… ships have been accounted for, although there may be more." At this point, Nobunaga Yuu swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, causing a shock of hair to fall over his face. He appeared more than unnerved, but then so did Machiko.

That annoying voice was back, chanting. _Not again, not again, not again.._.

"The United Nations has called for all countries to work together in the face of this new event. Each nation will be working with each other to treat this matter in such a way that will lead to the best outcome for all. We'll keep you updated should we receive new information as this story unfolds. Until then, we'll cut to a commercial break. Thank you for listening."

Just as promised, an ad for ramen noodles filled her bedroom. Shaken to the core, Machiko merely remained frozen in time and space. She did not move, nor call out for Mrs. Noguchi.

Instead, she closed her eyes and forced a breath she hadn't known she was holding out of her lungs.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, **fuck**._

If it was who she suspected it to be, there was little time to waste. She would have waited for them in the vastness of Ryushi, but not the populous Earth. Large numbers of them showing up at once on the edge of the Milky Way was just too ominous. She had to leave - _now_.

Leaping from her bed, Machiko whipped around the room to collect her belongings and prayed to God she had enough time. She didn't know what she would do, or where she would go, but she wasn't dragging her parents into this. They deserved better, despite their quirks.

Tossing a duffel bag she had acquired from her walk-in closet upon the bed, she became increasingly jerky with her motions as she crammed in clothes, toiletries and other miscellaneous items.

Once the bag was full, she turned to her closet for another…

…and saw an unmistakable distortion of air directly before her.

She didn't even have time to scream.


	2. Chapter 2

This was a fun chapter to write! To all you wondering, Puroresu Fever is a wrestling show in Japan.. Only it is slightly biased towards the foreign professional wrestlers who come on to beat the crap out of average Japanese guys. They have little chance, and it's one of those crazy TV shows over there. Anyways…

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

** Chapter Two:**

To a Daughter Leaving Home

_When I taught you  
at eight to ride  
a bicycle, loping along  
beside you  
as you wobbled away  
on two round wheels,  
my own mouth rounding  
in surprise when you pulled  
ahead down the curved  
path of the park,  
I kept waiting  
for the thud  
of your crash as I  
sprinted to catch up,  
while you grew  
smaller, more breakable  
with distance,  
pumping, pumping  
for your life, screaming  
with laughter,  
the hair flapping  
behind you like a  
handkerchief waving  
goodbye._

-Linda Pastan

* * *

She didn't have time to scream because she just wasn't that type of girl. Instead, she immediately dropped back and down into one of the defensive crouches she had learned from Master Ko so long ago. The Japanese woman waited, fists held motionless before her face while her body assumed the stillness of a petrified rabbit. Her heart thundered in her chest, abnormally loud to even her own ears. 

Nothing happened.

Her vision no longer warped and wavered along the edges, everything was as picture-perfect as it should have been. She exhaled, but her nerves did not release their grip on her tensed muscles. Mustering up whatever courage she had, she hesitantly took one step in reverse towards the bed. Her eyes never left the area before her, and she found her voice cracking along the edges as she commanded, "Show yourself!"

Still nothing.

"Machiko?" Her mother turned the doorknob to her bedroom, and Machiko lost sight of the objective as her eyes flicked instinctively to the doorway. "Who are you talking to?"

"Okaa-san, **_no!_**"

She heard the older woman pause in the doorway, more in surprise at the desperation in her daughter's voice than an actual acceptance of her warning. It didn't last long, however, and she rushed forward, fear in her dark brown eyes as she took up the scene.

There stood Machiko in a defensive posture reminiscent of her days as a martial arts student, waving a hand wildly in the empty space before her as if searching for something unseen.

"What in the world…"

Machiko snapped her attention back to Mrs. Noguchi for just a brief second before looking straight ahead again. Hesitantly, she extended her arms stiffly before her, palms up. She walked forward into the empty area before her person until she hit the doors of her closet, where her palms came to rest against the heavy oak. Had she been seeing things? Glancing back to her mother now, she noticed that Mrs. Noguchi was eying her rather oddly.

_God, I must look like a lunatic._

She didn't blame her mother for appraising her in such a critical fashion just then. Her actions could be taken as rather weird to any estranged bystanders.

_Damnit._

"Machiko…" Taking her hands from her hips, Noguchi Kaede strode over to her daughter and put a hesitant hand upon her shoulder. "Are you alright…?"

_Can't say I'm fine._

"I thought I saw---" she began before catching herself and changing the story, "that is, I was focusing on a spot on my closet. Going through the forms Master Ko taught me. After what happened on Ryushi, I guess I just have the urge to fine tune what he taught me."

Mrs. Noguchi eyed her daughter up and down, unconvinced. "Who were you talking to? I heard your voice."

Machiko thought quickly. "I.. I become more concentrated if I verbalize while going through forms. It helps me visualize an opponent."

One black eyebrow hooked on Mrs. Noguchi's softly lined face, and then she turned abruptly away while releasing her tenuous hold on Machiko. "Honestly, I thought you forgot all about the training that sensei gave you. That was quite some time ago."

_Thankfully, no. It saved my life._

Machiko shrugged and sighed, giving the room another investigative sweep with her eyes. She couldn't blame her mother for her lack of knowledge as to her dealings anymore. Once, they were close. Now it seemed that the years and time apart that would have normally driven friends away had left them resigned to very stereotypical mother and daughter roles. It was all they had left.

Somewhat saddened by this new discovery, Machiko was about to brood over it further but didn't have the chance. Mrs. Noguchi had nearly exited the room, but then her sights settled on the overstuffed duffel bag laying haphazardly askew on her daughter's bed.

"What is this? Are you leaving so soon?" A concise note of worry played along her tenor, and she turned an accusing stare to Machiko while pointing at the evidence with one small finger.

"No, I…"

Interrupted before she could explain, the bedroom was suddenly filled with the sound of Nobunaga Yuu's strained voice. Both pairs of Noguchi eyes turned to the screen at the front of the room, which up until that point had been displaying commercials that were easy to ignore. This was not. Both were transfixed on the image before them.

Strangely shaped objects floated on a continuous stream of sat-link video as the disembodied voice of the anchorman filled airwaves. "This is Nobunaga Yuu, and we're back again with live feed from the A-232 docking station near Triton."

The color drained from Mrs. Noguchi's visage, and she clutched at her chest with a small gasp.

Machiko made no sound. She could only stare in horror.

There were hundreds of them. Hundreds and hundreds, perhaps nearing one-thousand. Fifty was an understatement, and a poorly made one at that. They were enormous, streamlined and unlike any human construction she had ever seen. Their numbers stretched out endlessly in space, a metallic tsunami nearing Earth. In some distant part of her conscious that she refused to acknowledge, she knew, _knew_ what they were.

A small whimper escaped from her mother's lips, and it raised the gooseflesh on Machiko's arms.

"Government officials have declared that these are indeed XTs and the public should not be alarmed. The exact cause of disappearance for the group of Envoys deployed earlier today still has not been ruled out. At this time, we are not sure if contact has been made with this… entourage of unidentified vessels. We will update you as more information becomes available. Until then, we will return to Puroresu Fever."

A wrestling ring came up, with two opponents in opposite corners. One was a large, burly foreign wrestler while the other was a short, svelte Japanese man who barely weighed in at 90 pounds. Machiko became quickly distracted by her shaking mother and could see no more.

"Terminate Visual!"

The screen fell blank and dark.

"Okaa-san…"

"What.. what was that?" Mrs. Noguchi's shrill voice shook with the effort not to panic.

"Calm down, it could be a First Contact." First Contacts were rare, and they had always involved less intelligent life on outside planets. Special precautions were taken in these instances by the highly trained personnel that attempted them. It took many years of arduous training to be a First Contactor.

Machiko swallowed a lump in her throat. In all of history, they had never encountered intelligence high enough to create space-faring ships.

It was also a first that they were the ones being 'contacted' on their very own homeworld, if that were the case.

_Why do I have the feeling this isn't a social call?_

They could be looking for her. It was impossible for them to know that she had been marked by Broken Tusk, but what if they had somehow found out? What if…

_Did he survive?_

No, of course not. She had seen him die and then dishonored him by leaving his corpse for the scavengers - and it wasn't unheard of for the beasts on Ryushi to consume everything. That included bones.

Shaking her head furiously, she gritted her teeth. Mrs. Noguchi was staring vacantly at the silent screen at the forward wall of her daughter's bedroom.

"Let's go for a walk, okay?" She didn't want to remain in their home any longer. It felt too stagnant and vulnerable. She had to _move_.

"Go outside?" Her mother snapped out of her stupor and looked at Machiko like she had grown a second head. "We can't go outside with those things in the solar system! I want to stay here and…"

A digitalized beep from the monitor they had just sent to sleep cut in on Mrs. Noguchi's thoughts. Wiping blearily at her face, Noguchi Kaede faced the screen again and said, "Proceed."

All at once, the screen filled with the face of Uchida Mai. Like Machiko's mother, Mai was getting on in years. As a child, she had grown alongside Mai's son Kouhei. Her mother and Mai had been the best of friends in their upper-class suburban setting, and as a result Kouhei had spent a lot of time with her. If Machiko could best describe the relationship she had had with him then, it was that of a younger sister. She always looked up to him, and he had been a role model for many years. As time went on and they were able to function without their mothers at their sides, their lives intersected less. The last time she had seen him was her graduation from high school. He had been with Mr. and Mrs. Uchida at her graduation party, and by then he was a freshman at University.

They hardly spoke that entire night, so distant had they become.

It was somewhat of a shock to see Mrs. Uchida again. She seemed a lot older from what Machiko last remembered of her. Apparently, Uchida Mai thought the same.

"My, Noguchi Machiko! I haven't seen you in ages. You've… grown."

_No matter what age we are, we always seem to 'grow' in the eyes of those older than us_, she mused sardonically.

About to reply, Machiko was swiftly interrupted by her mother. "Mai-san, did you hear the news?"

"I did. It's why I thought to contact you. Is your husband home yet?"

""

"Not yet. I need to speak with him."

"Why don't you and your daughter come over while you wait? The more the merrier." For the first time, Mai's composed exterior wilted a little. To Machiko, 'The more the merrier' sounded suspiciously like 'Misery loves company'.

"We'd love to. What do you think those things were?" Mrs. Noguchi didn't miss a beat.

"I don't know, Kaede-san… I don't know." Mai lowered her eyes for a moment. She was a proper and prim woman, one that made Machiko's mother look carefree in contrast. Every facial expression, gesture and speech pattern seemed to be orchestrated in a fluid manner. Machiko was sure she was just as scared as her mother, but she hid it much better.

Ever the pragmatic one, Mai looked between them and then insisted, "Come over, we are having oodon. I hear Kouhei walking in the door now."

"What about Toshiro?"

"You can contact your husband from my house and even spend the night. Bring some things. We haven't been all together in quite some time." Mrs. Uchida hadn't directly said it, but the premise was there. Safety in numbers.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," said Mrs. Noguchi quickly.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you both." The face of Uchida Mai dissolved instantaneously, and the room suddenly seemed darker than usual. Machiko glanced over her shoulder at the large bay window that looked out upon the gardens beyond. Evening had fallen.

"You heard Mai-san, Machi-chan. Begin to.." Her mother's eyes strayed over to Machiko's duffel bag, and a corner of her mouth kicked upward. "Nevermind."

"You head to Mrs. Uchida's house, Okaa-san. I'll wait here for Otou-san."

Her mother's mouth fell open. "You cannot be serious."

"What if he gets home before you get to Mrs. Uchida's? He'll wonder what happened to us. I'm sure he'll be here any minute." She had to get her mother away from her. If these things wanted to tango with her, she wasn't getting anyone else involved.

"But Mai…"

"She'll understand. Otou-san and I will join up with you shortly."

Mrs. Noguchi just sighed. Headstrong daughters - why her?

Spinning around, she headed out of the room and down the hall. Machiko listened until her mother's receding footsteps could no longer be heard. The master bedroom of the Noguchi household was on the opposite end of the house from Machiko's room.

Machiko stretched and sighed. She was suddenly sore. Remembering that there had been a disturbance of some sort in her room earlier, she decided to inspect. Walking about the room, she waved her hands up and down in every available air pocket while continuously checking her open doorway. She didn't need her mother to catch her in the process of doing this a second time.

When she was satisfied that there wasn't one possible place left unturned, she hefted her duffel bag over one shoulder and glanced again at the doorway. Now.

Moving quickly, she reached for what appeared to be a thick dictionary on the bookshelf beside her bed. Pulling it loose, she opened the cover and removed the object inside. The book itself was a hollowed-out prop and nothing more - but it served its purpose. Her mother would never condone Machiko having a gun in the house, but after Ryushi she knew she would never go without one again.

Yanking up her loose t-shirt and keeping her sights trained on the doorway, Machiko strapped the gun belt around her waist and slid the small revolver into the sheath.

She was ready.

* * *

Half an hour after her mother had reluctantly departed, Machiko found herself sitting in the family's den again. At random intervals she would bid the home's internal computer to give her insight on the news updates, but the news had surprisingly little that was new to report. Government and world leaders admitted to attempting communication, but no contact to the strange ships could be made. They simply floated there on the edge of the galaxy, as if waiting. 

_Waiting for what?_

She heard someone knocking on the door, and she jumped. Confused, she headed to the front of the large house and peered through the peephole.

There was a man on the other side. He looked lost.

Suspicious, Machiko slowly opened the door a hair and moved her face close enough to the crack enough to say, "Yes?"

"Noguchi?"

She blinked.

"Kouhei-kun!" came her incredulous reply. The door opened fully.

He was there, grinning on the other side like a sheepish fool. "I thought I'd jog over here to get you. Your mom managed to get your father just before he left his office. He's already at our home."

Machiko didn't reply right away. She was busy staring at the man on her doorstep like a starry-eyed schoolgirl. He had grown at least two inches, she swore it. His short hair was shiny and slightly spiky, still as jet as she recalled it to be. His jaw line had filled in since his freshman year, and so had he. He was far from overweight, but he wasn't the scrawny beanpole he had been on her graduation night. In short, he finally looked like a grown man - and a handsome one at that.

"Um… Earth to Noguchi?" He waved a hand in front of her face, trying to bring her back to the land of the living.

"Uh? Oh, sorry!" A flush filled her face, and she instantly put a hand to her countenance as if to conceal it. Too late.

If Uchida Kouhei noticed, he made no mention of it. He just smiled. "We tried contacting you, but no one answered. They sent me over to investigate."

"I apologize. I must have been paying too much attention to the news to hear the incoming tone."

"I don't blame you." The young man shifted from his left foot to his right, and for the first time seemed unsure of himself. "They stopped cutting through regular programming when I left the house. It's just the news now… on every channel."

If one jogged to the Uchida household from her own, they could make the trip in three to five minutes, depending how fast your legs could carry you. Machiko and Kouhei had recorded the trip numerous times on their watches when they were younger. "I guess. Anything new?"

"Not yet," he answered glumly.

She bowed her head a little. If something didn't happen soon, they would all need therapy just from the building suspense.

"So, uh, you sure changed Noguchi." He had always called her by her last name, it was their way.

"So have you." She suddenly felt fifteen.

"Hey, uh… you want to go get a drink or something? I can call our parental units from the car and tell them where you are."

"They won't like that."

"No, but they can't do much about it. We're adults, right?" He reached up with one hand and scratched the back of his neck.

She laughed, and he smiled too. Around their parents? Hardly.

"Okay, you're on. Where at?"

He just grinned again.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and they were both sitting in a leather booth in Kamikaze, a nightclub in Tokyo's red light district. The place was surprisingly packed. No national emergency had been called, and as such the nightclubs along the strip remained open and generating revenue from their patrons. 

"This place sure is busy," she commented after Kouhei had finished his sake and ordered them two Waohs at the bar.

Resettling himself, her companion nodded his affirmation and pointed to the dance floor. The place thrummed with the energy of the dancers as they moved their bodies in powerful motions that simulated the pounding beat of the music overhead. It was a new genre of sound, piped in through large overhead speakers that were craftily hidden in all regions of the club. Multicolored lights rotated at 360 degree angles, throwing the dancers in an assortment of greens, blues, reds, and yellows.

As the music blared, Machiko found her voice rising in order to stay audible to Kouhei. "I'm amazed my mother didn't have a heart attack when I told her where I was going."

Truthfully, her mother hadn't liked it initially. She had made a face on the small display in Kouhei's hovercar, about to rattle off a protest when Machiko's father put a hand on her shoulder. Someone outside the range of view must have been making signals to her as well, because she was constantly looking to her left.

Kouhei and Machiko had to bite back smiles as Mrs. Noguchi merely smiled wanly and gave in. "Have fun, dear. Be back as soon as possible. Now is not the time to…"

Once again, Mr. Noguchi squeezed his wife's shoulder. "We'll be waiting here."

The communication channel switched off, and Kouhei and Machiko burst into nervous laughter.

"Parents," they had said in unison, looking at each other knowingly before they realized the awkward moment for what it was. They abruptly tore their gazes away. The rest of the car ride to the Kamikaze had been eerily quiet, but the energy of the club opened them back up again once inside.

"Thanks for the drink."

"No problem." He promptly began nursing the beer, and so did she. "I'm surprised you like Waoh. Don't you usually go for things a bit more fruity?"

"Is that a veiled insult or an honest question?"

He looked taken aback a moment, and then chuckled. "You haven't changed much."

"Neither have you." She suddenly had the need for a cigarette.

"Want to dance?"

"You dance!"

"Well, not really, but it's not like anyone will notice if we're doing it right or not."

She swallowed another sip of the bitter Waoh and cast a look to the dance floor. The people there were absolutely head-to-head, a vast sea of sweating bodies. It didn't look appealing. At the same time no one would pay attention if they could dance or not. They looked absolutely drunk.

"You're right about that." Inwardly, Machiko chastised herself for even being here. The people in the club had too much nervous energy and were dancing as if it were their last night on Earth.

_Jesus, it just might be. What the hell am I doing?_

Across from her sat Kouhei, and she instantly found her reason again. Well, reason(s). She couldn't let them find her with her family. There was no telling what they might do to them.

_So you risk Kouhei's life instead?_

She had no good answer for that. The optimistic side that rarely came knocking suggested that it was all a peaceful First Contact. Nothing more, nothing less.

_Sure, and I love handing out hugs and kisses._

She was **_so_** not arguing with herself here. "Let's dance."

They did.

* * *

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. She lost Kouhei quite a few times, grinding against strange men that didn't mind in the least. This didn't start immediately, of course, but the drinks they bought her kept coming and she kept dancing with more abandon. The world floated by, and everything seemed warm and muzzy around the edges. She could no longer discern individual faces,. There was only the primal beat of the music and colorful, painted expressions floating under the smell of perfumes and humanity. Someone goosed her in the middle of the jumble, and she didn't care. 

That's when all hell broke loose.

Someone was screaming near the front of the club. The combined cacophony of the music and slurred speech of the dance crowd made it easy to ignore at first. There was someone who could have been Kouhei in front of her, and he grabbed onto her hips as they jostled between nameless strangers.

More cries and shouts from up front, but Machiko ignored it and so did the man in front of her as they ground together. Must be a fight over a girl or something.

Someone on her left shoved her, hard. She would have fallen over if the man with his hands on her derriere hadn't held her upright. Unfortunately for him, the person who pushed her ricocheted at an angle and brought them both down. Machiko was immediately bereft of all touch, which was a rare thing for her. She was annoyed.

Ignoring the fact that the man she had been dancing with was now pinned under the motionless individual on the floor, she ambled brokenly away to find another dance partner. Something wet hit her cheek at her right, and she stumbled before turning to address the girl next to her in a clipped tone, "Watch 'da drink!"

The girl next to her didn't have a drink, but she was coated in a thick liquid too. Machiko was getting pissed.

_Dumb drunks!_

The scantily-clad girl had no reservations about passing out then and there. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and a surge of dancing bodies nearly trampled her underfoot when she hit the ground hard.

Unphased, Machiko moved on to find Kouhei.

At the end of the dance floor, she noticed a tall figure. There were more screams from somewhere behind her as well as the rush of feet as people stampeded about. For Machiko, it was like listening down a long tube - distant but nearly tangible. She would have turned around if the tall one wasn't so compelling.

She fell once or twice as she neared him, stumbling over unconscious drunks or something else, she couldn't ascertain which. When she was within a meter of him she was suddenly amazed at how he loomed above her.

He was wearing a mask, as if he had arrived for a costume party. Her clouded brain registered when he reached out and touched something on her forehead before his hand slid down to rest on the cheek stained with alcohol. Disconnected from the meaning of this, she pressed herself up against him and noted that he was like a rock - not pliable in the least like the other men she had danced with. Foggy with alcohol, she smiled seductively and leaned in close. When her hand rose to caress his mask, she was stunned by the cold metallic feel of it. Something deep within her was shaken when he took a step back in surprise. Something was horribly wrong. If she could only remember…

"Dun' wanna dance, big guy?" she garbled in an unsteady voice.

He made rapid clicking noises from behind the mask.

"Da'dtou-di!"

That shaken part of her snapped. Had she been carrying her last drink, she would have dropped it. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor. Her eyes stared at the apparition before her in complete disbelief, and one trembling hand traced her cheek.

She held her fingers before her and dropped her eyes to them like a condemned woman. The screams amongst the dancers was a palpable thing now, gripping her heart in a vice and squeezing the color from her face.

Blood stained her fingers. She swallowed a cry and looked down to her feet, where a growing puddle of crimson was forming from behind. Her head whipped around to the rest of the club behind her. There were creatures mingled in with the last of the living club-goers, but they wouldn't be alive for long. Bodies littered the floor, some beheaded and some gutted. Some were indistinguishable.

_**SHIT.**_

Blood, Bodies…

A prolonged sweep of her eyes up to the implacable mask of the tall 'stranger' before her confirmed the rest.

"_Jesus_," she gasped meekly.

The predator just shook his head and pointed down at her knowingly.

"**Da'dtou-di!**"

Blood, Bodies and…

Broken Tusk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

**Chapter Three:**

Excerpt from What Might Have Been:

_Sure I think about you now and then  
But it's been a long long time  
I've got a good life now I've moved on  
So when you cross my mind _

I try not to think about  
What might have been  
'Cause that was then  
And we have taken different roads  
We can't go back again  
There's no use giving in  
And there's no way to know  
What might have been

_-Little Texas_

* * *

Time stood still for Machiko; she could not force herself to witness the massacre at her back. The only object of her attention was the great predator before her. They stared at one another as the seconds slipped by, he with his stony mirrored mask and she with brown eyes the size of saucers. Neither dared to move. 

Something began to tingle at the back of Machiko's throat, and it suddenly went dry. She tried to speak, but her jaw only moved soundlessly and she was left looking like a fish gaping out of water. Explosions echoed behind her, illuminating Broken Tusk's mask and lighting up the dark visor where his eyes should have been. For a moment, he appeared like a gothic gargoyle come to annihilate her once and for all.

She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears now, and she had to force her parched throat to swallow in order to calm her own pulse. Warring emotions conflicted on her face in her inebriated state; she wanted to leap up and embrace Broken Tusk and she wanted to kill him for what she witnessed tonight. She could also cry, vomit, and lastly just curl up and fall asleep for a very long time.

She teetered on the tether to all of these needs, and could find no solace in choosing only one.

The blood continued to well up beneath the flat of her palms on the floor. It morbidly reminded her of the times at school where she would play with red finger-paint as a little girl - submerge her hands in it and then fling it across the canvas in front of her with so much force. She would then wipe her face with it and smear it everywhere. It was thick and sticky.

Broken Tusk cocked his head at her, and knelt before her. He slowly raised a clawed hand, as if that simple gesture was a sacrificial rite.

_He's still alive. He survived. He thinks I'm still Dahtoudi._

Dahtoudi allowed herself one surreal moment of returning to a time when they fought side by side, neither one able to communicate with the other. Beyond her own ability to fathom how, a respect formed beyond their differences and in the end she was fiercely proud to be his _Dahtoudi_.

…But now it was Noguchi Machiko in the white skirt and halter top spattered with the blood of others. It was Machiko who wore three inch stilettos that used to be black in a club that used to be called the Kamikaze. It was Machi-chan that had tried to mend ties with a childhood friend from long ago.

It was she, not _Dahtoudi_, who was trying to become human again.

She made her decision.

_Dahtoudi is no more._

"I am Noguchi Machiko." Her words sounded small and unrecognizable, even to herself. If it had not been for Dahtoudi, she wouldn't be in this present bloodbath.

_It's all my fault. They came back for me, and they killed everyone to do it._

Broken Tusk growled, a low vibration that rattled the air and somehow prevailed over the tempo of the music and dismayed echoes in the room.

She didn't know if he understood, and in some irrational part of her she didn't care. An inhuman shriek blasted off a quarter turn to her right. In her alarm, she turned her head with the miniscule amount of effort it took to behold the last thing she would ever wish to observe.

The alcohol in her bloodstream dimmed her senses, but seeing Broken Tusk in the flesh was a refreshingly sober experience. With her adrenaline pumping through her veins, she could focus enough under the bouncing rainbow rays to see another predator nearby with his spear held high in triumph.

Upon it was Kouhei's dismembered head, staked up through the neck.

The multicolored lights bouncing across his cadaverous countenance made the spectacle even more macabre than it had to be. His body lay directly at the feet of his celebratory killer, and the anguish on Kouhei's dead features were more than Machiko was able to comprehend.

In a move that was beyond conscious action and borne of mad grief, Machiko's hand spontaneously flew to the weapon strapped to her thigh. Before leaving for the club, she had dressed into her current attire. The outfit was tight and a firearm would be easily outlined through the thin material, so she opted instead to secure the revolver to her thigh - just under the skirt.

The gun was out and she was sighting down the XT even before a primal cry escaped her voice box. She fired.

The sound of gunfire erupted above everything and resounded throughout the club like thunder. It filled the room until her ears were ringing of it and she couldn't see what or where she was shooting anymore. Her own rage drove her on, and she found herself wanting to exterminate every last one of them for what they did. She was sure she hit the predator that had killed Kouhei the first time she pulled the trigger. Through the shifting lights she saw the hands holding the spear spasm before he dropped it altogether with a screech.

_Eat this, fuck face!_

The air reeked of gunpowder, but she kept unloading clips until something slammed into her from behind. The gun was knocked from her grasp, and distantly she heard a loud gust of air and saw sparks in her eyes as she hit the floor rolling. The moment she could regain leverage from her tumble was the minute she was on her feet again, only one thought clear.

She had to get out of there **_now_**.

Something snapped below her, and she went sprawling onto the floor and landed hard on her right hip. An involuntary cry of pain escaped her lips, and she struggled to rise again. It proved to be too much of an effort, and her thigh screamed in pain with every motion. Jerking her head over her shoulder from her position stomach-first on the ground, she swore audibly.

"FUCK!" One of her heels had broken.

Gasping frantically, she used the gore spread across the dance floor to slide herself forward. It was a revolting slip-and-slide of blood and body parts. Her eyes scanned the mess and looked for Kouhei's beheaded body. If she could attain the keys to the hovercar, she could remove herself from this nightmare.

Machiko fought the bile rising in the back of her throat as she passed what might have been a woman at one point in time. The hair and scalp on the head was entirely missing, and the glistening cap of her skull could be discerned under the hellish light of the dance floor. Ragged furrows ran along the corpse's left cheek, and it appeared as if something sliced through her eye in the process. Thick globs of eyeball ran loose out of an empty, gaping eye socket.

_Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up…_

She forced herself to look away and forward to the next corpse. The woman waded through a steaming pile of viscera, dark and pungent with death. It was unexpectedly harder to breathe now, and for the first time she noticed that her lungs were laboring to draw in air. Smoke filled the club, originating from the spot where she had initially fired her automatic.

The gun must have gone off and ignited with the spilled alcohol. It was part of the pulpy liquid spread across the club - a mixture of body fluids and drinks.

It was distinct now that she listened for it. The loud pop and crack of flames shocked her system into dragging herself faster and ignoring the torment in her hip.

_I'm gonna die._

There. A man's body, minus the head. Her left hand reached for his closest appendage, and something got in her vision. She swiped at her face with the back of her hand and came away with something fluid and black. It hadn't even occurred to her that she was crying. The tears that coursed down her cheeks were silent, blended with mascara and blood. _Kouhei_.

Using the man's ankle as a means to pull herself aside his form, she began patting his closest pants' pocket. Nothing. Despairing, she reached across his waist and tried the other. When her arm was at some point midway across his body, she noticed a deep hole in her dead friend's chest. Intestines and ribs shining like white exclamations shimmered with blood and thicker things.

This was familiar, but she was at a loss to identify how when her mind struggled to even control her own actions.

Breathing raggedly, she clutched at the pocket on the far side of Kouhei's body. Something loud and chunky was stashed there, and it jingled as she bopped it with her hand. It was the most comforting thing she had ever heard in her life. Her hand clumsily descended into the pocket, extracting the keys. Her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped them twice, and on the third time she clutched them to her chest and began sorting through to find the correct one.

An arm slipped about her midsection and hauled her backwards. She fumbled with the keys, and they fell uselessly to the floor.

"_No!_"she shrieked, surging forward with all her weight.

It was ineffectual. There was a deafening roar in her ear, and she strained to liberate herself. Her body twisted violently in order to gain freedom, and the pain in her thigh was still ignored. She even kicked backwards in order to gain purchase, but it was in vain. She struck off kilter and the arm imprisoning her only constricted as a result. Her desperation reached new levels and she began convulsing with coughing fits as smoke filled her windpipe. Vertigo sank in, and her protests grew gradually weaker. There was the floating sensation of being held above the ground and moving away, but even that seemed hard to conceptualize.

"Key… Kou…" she choked, "Brok… ..tu…"

Machiko swore she heard an answering snarl before she sank into blessed unconsciousness.

* * *

Her peace didn't last long. She hadn't been out long before a breath of wind brought her rudely to her senses. The sensation of being carried came next, and with this discovery she began struggling anew. This time she was rewarded with her exertions - something she didn't expect. 

The arm around her midriff released her unceremoniously and she hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. There was a grunt and a hiss - the sound of a collision.

"Ah!" she cried at the sudden loss of support, hitting the pavement hard. If she managed to survive the night at all, she was going to look like an angry spouse's personal punching bag.

It took a minute to regain her bearings, but by then there was an unmistakable bellow of pain and a whir of clicks that reminded her of an old generator gearing to life. It was extremely dark save for the sallow light of a streetlamp nearby. Pale light glittered cruelly off a few dips in pavement where puddles lay, and Machiko made the wild guess that she was down some back alley between clubs.

Cursing her eyesight, she leapt to her feet. This proved to be a mistake, and her unequal heels sent her to her knees again. This jostled her hip rudely and she whimpered from a small stab of pain that arced down her right leg. Her mind found a new level of desperation as she twisted at the waist to yank fitfully at the remaining spike on her left heel.

The sounds of a confrontation were definite. A large burst of crackling blue energy exploded against the brick side of the building across from her, and she screamed.

Silence.

Two more wrenches and the spike came free. She held in so tightly in her right hand that the knuckles of her fist lost their color and ran white.

Something was tap-tapping her way. It came from the innermost part of the alley, and she found herself scuttling backwards on all fours towards the light spilling in from the street. There were two large dumpsters located side-by-side just before the sidewalk with a small space between them.

The ghostly cast of the streetlight made every moment a shutter-frame slideshow. A black appendage emerged from the penumbras and plunked itself forcibly into a puddle on the edge of the light. The uniform reflection of the pool shattered, sending spray flying into the air like broken glass.

A drawn out hiss, and then it charged.

No time to think. Her body moved of its own accord, and she pulled herself into the air pocket between the dumpsters. She didn't cease her reversal until her bloodied back hit the hard wall behind her with a sickening slap.

She held her breath.

It stalked back and forth restlessly between the garbage containers, and then she could hear it prowl no longer. Had it left? What had happened to the one who brought her here?

Machiko remembered the origin of the ebony creature all too well. It was the nightmare come back to haunt her, and for one wild moment she wanted to do nothing but scream and scream and scream.

Above the silence was the sound of her rampaging heartbeat. She swallowed slowly, listening. Nothing ----

_**There.**_

It snapped viciously at her face from a foot away, having materialized instantaneously. Acrid spittle flew from its jaws, striking the metal sides of her _prison_ and melting it. The woman allowed herself one scream as it shook the dumpsters in an effort to follow her into the crevice.

Jerking her head to the side and closing her eyes, Machiko raised the spike in her hand and thrust blindly.

A squealing, high-pitched sound cut through the alley and threatened to splice open her eardrums.

Opening her eyes, the terrified woman edged the limits of her vision out to the XT, which had recoiled violently enough to shaken the dumpsters on either side of her. She turned her head to face straight ahead, shocked. From her narrow line of sight she was able to ascertain that she had drove the spike of her heel up the thing's second throat.

The alien was hemorrhaging acidic blood with both toothy maws wide open. From the large one the smaller worm-like mouth was extended, the spike imbedded deeply within.

The rise and fall of her chest dropped in speed somewhat, and she could only stare numbly as the onyx alien thrashed wildly, trying to get back on its feet. If it did, she was as good as gone. Her gun was still back in the Kamikaze and she carried no other weapon.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wound her arms about them and dropped her head into her lap. Fresh tears bled down her face, and no amount of squeezing them back would hinder their progress. Something primitive thundered nearby, and it reverberated through Machiko's senses. She raised her head again.

A shadow ambled across her blurred vision, and the sharp sound of metal against metal rang out. It was the first time she put a name to her kidnapper, but then again she should have known all along who it was.

_Broken Tusk._

The alien was still rolling to and fro, screeching and hissing furiously. The predator stood over it like a dark sentinel, doubled wrist blades extended on both forearms. The alien finally rolled over, stood ---

---launched---

---and met with the ragged grooves of Broken Tusk's blades.

The creature yelped as it skewered itself. Its body weight drove it all the way down to the hilt of the blades, and for a moment Machiko watched in disbelief as they glared one another down. The lanky XT snarled ruthlessly down at the _Dragon _- Broken Tusk - and in turn he let loose another savage roar from behind his mask.

It would have perhaps died slowly, but the warrior seemed to have no such patience. He flung the large alien aside, and it smacked up against the slimy surface of the building opposite the one Machiko curled against. Before it even slid to the ground he was upon it. She heard him cut at the creature's caustic exoskeleton with deft moves. The bug chattered in agony for a slip of seconds, and then she heard no more.

Noguchi Machiko's breathing hitched in her throat when Broken Tusk slowly stood, turned, and looked directly into her hiding place.

For an impossible second she felt deeply ashamed at her cowardice, which still radiated from her. She knew he was aware of her. Willing her limbs to move, to stand, to do anything, was an impossible task. They refused to cooperate.

He was approaching her now, his gaze ever strident and his mask ever unforgiving.

Machiko could not stand. She was betrayed, confused, hurt, horrified - and she didn't know if she could trust the one who had more than once saved her life once-upon-a-time.

_He killed Kouhei. No, one of his buddies did. Is he here to kill me? Could he?_

He knelt on one knee before the dumpsters and slowly held out one hand into the depths between. She fought the urge to grab it and never let go. _Murderer! You left me. You left me only to come back and kill those I care about. You can't be real…_

…_I watched you die._

He flexed his fingers, once. No other sound or motion was made.

_Why did you leave me behind…?_

The mark he had etched into her forehead seemed to burn like a fresh brand.

"Hold the fort. I'll be back when I'm done."

It was her voice.

Deep inside, something cracked apart and she was laid bare. That recorded voice - _her_ voice - rose from him like a shard of the past and cut her world apart. She made a low, inhuman cry---

---took his hand---

---and squeezed it before feeling an answering pressure in return.

It was as if all the blocks swiftly tumbled back into place. He pulled her up, out of the unlit chasm and she was standing in illumination once more. In spite of everything he had done and what he represented, she felt a slow smile separate her face. It contained joy, familiarity, but also sorrow and mistrust.

She stood beside the bulk of a killer and dared to show her teeth.

_Brave Dahtoudi._

* * *

They walked in silence from that place, side by side. She had so many questions, so many accusations to place upon him - but then he would have no way to explicitly answer them, either. Besides, it was rather difficult to concentrate on starting an interrogation when one walked right into the apocalypse. 

From all directions car alarms were wailing, never to be consoled. The streets were lined with refuse and broken glass. It was as if I large mass of people had moved in a great migration towards an unknown destination. A copy of the Tokyo Times blew across her path, crinkling in the wind. Downtown Tokyo looked like a ghost town. Glancing to the east, she noted that the sun was beginning to rise. The gray sky was still dark, still dreary, but it lifted her spirits to see the shadows steal away with the advance of the sunrise.

"How did this happen?" she asked aloud. Her voice sounded high and keening with apprehension.

Broken Tusk still hadn't removed his mask. He merely turned his head in her general direction, making a warbling grumble in reply. She glanced up to concentrate him as she passed a fire hydrant. She couldn't bear to look at what might have been a dog at one point in time. What was left was steaming.

"How did you survive? Have you been following me?" she inquired suddenly.

He didn't answer - he couldn't. The predator just angled another emotionless gaze down at her blood-encrusted form as she hobbled along on one good leg.

_Of course, idiot. He can't understand you. This is so.. so.. frustrating!_

Frustrating reminded her of her mother. Her mother reminded her of her father, and the fact that both of them were at the Uchida house reminded her of Kouhei.

"**Shit!**"

The hunter stopped, and a pained look passed over her face. "I need.. I need to get back.. to…" She gestured frantically to the north before limping as quickly as possible in that direction.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her. Her head darted over her shoulder, red-rimmed eyes wide. "What!" She hadn't been aware of where he was leading her since the skirmish with the alien in the alley. It seemed more advantageous to tag along with the predator than take on the walk home by herself. Her mind was still strained to its limit, and she didn't fully trust Broken Tusk anymore. Perhaps the mark he gave her all those months ago kept her from an imminent death at his hands - she couldn't say for sure. The one thing she did understand was that Kouhei was dead and the predators were to blame.

_He and his goddamn race._

They had brought the aliens to Earth, she was sure of it. If it wasn't for their fucking need to hunt those damn bugs she wouldn't be in this position. She would have still carried out her duties as a corporate figurehead many time promoted by now, living a life uncomplicated.

Casting a judgmental concentration up at the hunter again, she felt her eyebrows knit and she scowled. Her emotions warred with one another. He had been a life-saver, protector, friend… as well as a hunter, killer, and traitor. For all she knew, the aliens were first on the menu and then humans next. _Why did they kill those innocent people in the Kamikaze? What did they do to warrant that? They weren't even fucking armed!_

Only she had pulled the gun. Only she had survived.

_**How?**_

She had no answer, but he did. He just wasn't talking.

Broken Tusk had long ago thrown his focus on the wrist gadget he wore. He was tapping at it with one claw, making soft clicks at certain points. Machiko was close to throwing up her hands and taking a chance on her own when he produced a holographic image that ballooned forth from the device.

One dark eyebrow rocketed upwards. God, she needed a cigarette.

It was a diagram of a building. Not just any building, but Chigusa Corp. Machiko would recognize it anywhere; she was supposed to be there this morning. She began to worry her lower lip with her upper set of teeth as she stared transfixed at the holo.

_How am I going to explain this to my boss? Does surviving a massacre doled out by XT's in a nightclub count towards sick time?_

She almost laughed at herself. Almost.

Broken Tusk made an impatient noise deep in his throat and she once more found her attention riveted to him. Once he was satisfied with her compliance, he pointed at the base of the 3-D image. He was indicating the front door to Chisuga.

"No, you can't come to work with me."

He just snarled and jabbed his claw at the front door with more emphasis before running it up the length of the holo. Was he indicating they enter the building together and move to the top floor? She had no idea, and it unnerved her.

Holding her ground she shook her head and pointed north once more. Her lips thinned out and she stamped her foot once for extra effect. She felt like a mime. "No. I need to get _home_." Machiko needed to see her parents and the Uchidas were alive, she had to tell them about Kouhei.

One look down at herself only added to her list. She grimaced. _I need a shower._

The warrior was quiet for a full minute. In a move that made her jump, he touched a button on his wrist again and the holo crackled once before disappearing altogether.

He gave a resigned grunt and nodded.

Nodding in return, Noguchi Machiko turned north in a stiff fashion that bespoke of both physical and emotional wounds. Some were only skin deep, others slashed at her very soul. From time to time she would glance over her shoulder to see if Broken Tusk was following. He was always there, always a presence at her back - but there had been a time when he wasn't. Where he had gone and what he did she did not know, but somehow she had to understand. There were necessary things that needed to be done at the present time, but their talk would come later. Language barrier or no, she would find a way.

_God help me._


	4. Chapter 4

One reviewer was concerned that the Yautja aren't true to canon because they attacked supposedly 'unarmed' humans. I like to drop hints along the story and reveal things later, so it might appear misleading at first. It was intentional – the Yautja I'm trying to portray will be as close to canon as I can make them, even if the circumstances they are given make them appear to act otherwise. Also, someone commented that they would like to see Dachande's point of view like in the original story. I considered doing that for awhile, but it would be too late to start now and it would give too much of the plot away for what I intend to do with it. That said, on with Chapter Four!

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

**Chapter Four:**

The Poison Flower

_The poison flower that in my garden grew  
Killed all the other flowers beside.  
They withered off and died,  
Because their fiery foe sucked up the dew. _

When the sun shone, the poison flower breathed cold  
And spread a chilly mist of dull disgrace.  
They could not see his face,  
Roses and lilies languished and grew old.

Wherefore I tore that flower up by the root,  
And flung it on the rubbish heap to fade  
Amid the havoc that itself had made.  
I did not leave one shoot.

Fair is my garden as it once was fair.  
Lilies and roses reign.  
They drink the dew, they see the sun again;  
But I rejoice no longer, walking there.

-Mary Coleridge

* * *

Machiko had never taken a shower so fast in her life.

They had made a pit stop at her home first; her parents were not there. It was a small miracle, the first for that night and present morning. The reason for her detour came down to one simple fact – appearances. She was not going to show up at the Uchida household and break the news of Kouhei's death (how did one broach that with loved ones, anyways?) looking like she had single-handedly slaughtered half a dozen people.

The skirt and halter top had peeled off like a second skin. They fell to the bathroom tile caked in crusted blood, as stiff as crinoline. The process of shedding the disgusting material was not unlike a snake molting, a parallel she frowned at making.

She had left Broken Tusk in the den, or so she hoped. She had told him to stay, to hide himself. He seemed to understand after several minutes of her charades and promptly cloaked himself. Satisfied, she turned on her heel and went for a new pair of clothes.

Now the hot spray of the shower was striking her face. The crimson clots attached to her arms, face and legs came loose, moving with the water down into the drain. She had one bad moment when she stepped back, wiped her eyes and looked down at the red river through the fog.

_If anyone saw this, they would think I'd cut my wrists open. I look like I'm bleeding to death in the shower._

She gave an involuntary snort at that. Now of all times was not the moment for macabre humor, however slight. As soon as she got out of the shower she was going to spend about a minute digesting the most recent news reports before heading to the Uchidas.

The Japanese woman sighed, and called out somberly for her household's central systems to cease the flow of water. After this was accomplished, she slid open the tempered glass door to the shower and groped for a towel. It took several tries, but she finally managed attain it. She always did think that towel ring was rather far from the shower.

Not much later she was toweling off her hair and donning her new clothes. It was nothing fancy; indeed she did not need to ruin anything of quality if she were to go outside again. Her ensemble consisted of nothing but sneakers, jeans and a functional t-shirt. It would do nicely.

The large bathroom mirror was still frosted over with fog, so Machiko used one hand to clear a path by pressing her palm to the flat of the glass and making an arc. Within the rainbow of her hand's path she could clearly see her features. What she saw there shocked her, yet at the same time she grimly acknowledged that she should have expected nothing less.

She was death warmed over. Her dark, wet tendrils hung like a black curtain on either side of her ashen face. There was swelling in places, mottled purple and blue. Some cuts were still bleeding, refusing to heal even that late in the game. Sulking, she tore away from her discouraging reflection.

_Ugh. I look like I've been hit by a train._

Some small part of her wished she had. It would sure beat going through the hell she had endured during the past eight hours. Her body sluggishly called for sleep, but she could have none of it. There simply wasn't time. She would sleep later – just like she would mourn for Kouhei properly. Later.

Sighing heavily, the woman unlocked the door to the bathroom. Before taking her shower she had made sure it was locked in a near-paranoid state. The last thing she wanted was a predator walking in on her naked – even if it was Broken Tusk. He could no doubt break down the door with or without the lock, but she doubted he would try such a thing. At most he could become curious and peer inside. She had already acted wantonly in the Kamikaze when she thought him to be an extremely tall man – granted, she was drunk. She would struggle with herself over that situation later.

Still, her championed titles of 'ice queen' and 'cold bitch' did not need the additive of 'intergalactic hussy'.

Machiko smirked. She was not bemused – she was bitter.

Crossing quickly down the hall and keeping a close eye out for any sign of Broken Tusk, she gave herself a moment of inward relief when she did not see him and reached her room without incident. Closing her door firmly behind her, she went to her dresser and filched the brush set atop it. Her mind wandered as she brushed her hair.

It made sense that wherever the predators were, those spiny aliens followed. Was it the other way around? Possibly. Back on Ryushi, the colonists had first found that arachnid-like creature… supposedly in Iwa Gorge. This was later disproven, but the hunters had shown up immediately after that. The Japanese woman later put two and two together, realizing that Broken Tusk and his kind hunted the murderous things. In a way, it seemed as if they had set them there before arriving ---

Like an antique deadbolt clicking into place, it all became clear.

The motions her arm made through her wet snarls suddenly stilled.

There had been a hole in Kouhei's chest. She remembered this now. Had he somehow given birth to one of the creatures in the club when she lost him…?

She swallowed a suppressed sob and clapped a hand a hand over her mouth. The predators had only made themselves visible to her once the screams had gone on for some time. She hadn't noticed them prior to that…

Had the club-goers been infected somehow? Did that explain the actual presence of the alien in the alley? Were there more?

_Oh god…_

She slammed down the brush with more force than necessary and activated the monitor on the wall.

"Visuals, now!"

The screen pimpled with pixels before giving its only viewer perfect clarity. The news was still on, and Nobunaga Yuu still hadn't gone home. He looked like shit.

His haggard face stared through the screen, and he struggled over his words. There was no apprehension or terror in his voice now, which she found odd.

"For those of you just tuning in, the unidentified vessels we have been tracking for the past eight hours have faded from our observation. Worldwide, scientists and government officials alike have extended technology to its furthest in order to regain the known presence of these ships."

The anchorman paused and took another deep breath before continuing, "All incoming commercial and private spacecrafts have been put on restricted status for scheduled planetfalls, and none are allowed to depart Earth save for authorized military bodies. It still stands that the diplomatic envoys sent early yesterday afternoon are missing. President Matsumoto has been in deep talks with all world leaders and all have called for the planet to be put under a global emergency as of an hour ago."

Machiko forgot the brush in her hand and it fell to the padded carpet at her feet.

"This is a serious situation, although panic is the absolute last thing the population is advised to do. For now, President Matsumoto had advised all Japanese citizens to remain in their homes until further information is released. All military and government employees will be notified personally by their respective superiors if their presence is needed in their fields. No other facilities and businesses are to remain open at this time."

The woman thought she heard a tapping on her door. It was something attended to briefly in the back of her mind, but swiftly ignored. Nobunaga Yuu was still talking, and she stood transfixed.

"Other reports are coming in of creatures seen within the city. Rumored to be those encountered on Ryushi, citizens are taking to the streets with anything they can find in order to hunt the creatures."

The camera panned into the small icon floating right above the anchorman's head, blowing the screen up with a scene from somewhere in the Shibuya area. Shibuya had always been a trendy place for shopping and other retreats, but now it was flooded with mobs waving everything from firearms to tennis rackets. Several glassed-off shops had been broken into, and glass was everywhere. Looters dove in and out of the boutiques, scuffling with one another in the process. One couple was making off with some equipment used in creating synthetic human beings while a motley crew of young boys made off with the latest gaming equipment from a store nearby. New fashions dripped from the arms of several young women who leapt over a young boy bawling alone on the sidewalk.

It was chaos.

_Shit._

Her bedroom door rattled almost violently, and an indrawn hiss could be heard from just beyond it. Slowly, Machiko turned to face the ruckus while the newsman kept speaking.

"Police are already stretched thin and are finding that quelling the disturbances in the street a difficult if not impossible task. The firefighters of the city already have their hands full containing several blazes, the first of which occurred yesterday evening at the popular nightclub called the Kamikaze. Reasons for the fire are still unknown, and the entire building burned to the ground before help could arrive."

She had heard enough. "Terminate Visual!"

There was a growl from Broken Tusk on the other side of the door.

No, there was a _monster_ on the other side of the door.

He was a leader. She had ascertained that much back on Ryushi. Had he not learned the lesson given to both of them on that desert planet? Did he forget how many people died, hers and his alike? The hunters brought those aliens with them again, she was sure of it.

_The bastards let them loose here just so they can play their games._

This conclusion chilled her more than facing one of the aliens ever had. This is where it stood, then. A planet full of humans was a much better spawning ground for their prized prey than one mere colony. Kouhei and the others in the club had been tools – used and cast aside – for the sole purpose of spreading those black nightmares.

Filled with a rage beyond her understanding, Machiko took the three steps that lay between herself and the door. One shaking hand reached for the doorknob, and she yanked it aside after unlocking it.

He stood defensively in the hall, one fist raised as if she had caught him in the act of breaking down the door. At her tense posture and gritted teeth, his fist lowered to rest back at his side. He stood straighter, head tilting curiously to the side while a low chitter escaped him.

She appraised him up and down in her fury. Her anger gave her a bravado she wouldn't normally possess. "You really are one ugly…"

Trailing off, she bit her lower lip when he began to growl in warning. She needed answers, not a fight. Standing her ground and awash in the bright light of her bedroom, she began again, "Why were you in the Kamikaze?" Her voice wavered, and she had to consciously keep herself from yelling.

Broken Tusk seemed to pick up on her ire, which only caused him to take a step closer and snarl. They glared at one another for a space of seconds, she with her dangerously slit eyes and he through the impersonal visor of his mask.

She emitted a curt laugh without warning, struck by the absurdity of her query. "This is ridiculous! I'm talking to someone who can't even say my real name and expect them to reply." Her hand waved at him dismissively, and began to push past to get down the hallway.

"This is ridiculous!"

That stopped her. She turned back at her own echo, grating the upper and lower sets of teeth in the back of her mouth. "Just.. just shut up, okay? This is all your fault!" Jabbing an accusatory finger in the predator's direction, she glowered. Her voice was rising on one end, and she was at a failure to keep the high whine in her tenor from filling her words. "Why can't you just go away? Those people at the club… they… they… were… _tell me why you killed them!_"

Nothing at first. He merely looked at her.

Suddenly, he was there. Not just a foot away, but an inch away. He cuffed her hard on the chin with one hand, and her head simultaneously tore away to the side. With an impatient bark, he tried again but she stepped back, out of his reach. Strangely enough, he did not attempt to make a grab for her again.

She could not trust him as far as she could throw him – and given their difference in heights and weights, such a feat would be physically impossible.

The tears were back, threatening to overhaul her anger. Her focal point remained only on his mask, sometimes straying to the beringed dreadlocks on either side of it. Despite everything they had faced together and the numerous times he had saved her life, she wanted nothing more than to see him vanish.

"Why?" It was all Machiko could manage to choke out.

He began to pantomime then. One clawed hand reached for one of the alien fingers adorning his armor, lifting it up and away so she could clearly see it. The Japanese woman found herself nodding, and then he in turn used his opposite hand to point between them both.

"The thing that attacked us? Yeah, I remember it," she snapped.

The warrior's movements appeared to become more rushed at the ire in her voice, which might have mirrored something he was feeling too. The hand holding the disgusting trophy released it and clutched at his midsection next. As if he were signifying something growing large and pregnant, his hand burst away from his mottled stomach and his digits flared open.

"I knew it," Machiko said scathingly. Her horrible theory was now a horrible _fact_. "You haven't learned anything, have you? You.. you.. what happened back on Ryushi…" She flailed her arms wildly, not caring if she made sense or not. Any gratitude she had ever felt at seeing Broken Tusk alive again had quickly dwindled down to nothing. "What's _wrong_ with you? Are the rest of your kind running around right now, spreading those things you hunt into other humans? _What the **fuck** is wrong with you?_"

There was a deafening din as the hall filled with the roar of an enraged predator. She couldn't suppress a whimper as the reverberation of it continued to rip through her long after he had finished. Considering she didn't know any better, she hazarded a guess that he had just told her to shut up in his own way. He took a threatening step in her direction, lowered his masked face to hers and snarled in such a manner that she started to shake. One large fist clamped vise-like over her upper arm, just above the elbow. It squeezed. The pressure wasn't painful, but it was definitely reprimanding.

"Da'dtou-di."

He let go.

No one moved for what seemed to be five minutes. Machiko at last made the effort first, angling around him and walking a bit faster than she had to towards the foyer of the house. She heard him follow, his heavy footsteps keeping pace with her speed. "I need to go check on my parents. I need—".

The tone of the screen in the den interrupted her frantic thoughts, thankfully scattering them. At the same time, she didn't need distractions in a time like this. "Onscreen."

The central monitor flared up, and she threw a hasty glance behind her as she realized her blunder. As if anticipating that she would make a mistake, Broken Tusk had already cloaked himself. No one would see him standing just over her shoulder – she could breath a short sigh of relief.

"Ms. Noguchi?"

It was Sam Stewart, her operations head. In short, the boss she answered to within Chigusa's hierarchy. He was an expat in his early forties with something akin to a moustache that reminded her of a chocolate milk stain instead. From the first time she had interviewed with him over the channeling system, she had found it difficult not to stare at the mark beneath his roman nose. She had come up with a name for him after that, one she only used mentally – Smudge.

In spite of the circumstances, the British man appeared cool and collected as he gave her a detached gaze over the monitor. It would have had a more intimidating effect had he shaved that morning.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded guilty.

"Do you realize what time it is?"

"I---" She glanced over to a clock on a wall console, which highlighted the time in glowing numerals.

_Damnit._

"It is past 6:30, Ms. Noguchi. I would expect you to be more punctual on your first day."

"But…"

"I do realize the crises our world is currently under. However, you are still needed and there is no excuse. You know that each employee's role is vital in keeping normal business operations. We cannot simply close our doors in the face of something like this. We have hundreds of colonies that still rely on our communications and services."

She almost informed him that ships weren't coming and going from Earth anyways, but decided against that.

"I have not informed my division supervisor of this tardiness on your part as of yet. If you are prompt to make up for your lateness, we can forget this entire fiasco."

Her blood was boiling by now, but she gave him a thin smile instead and nodded. "Thank you. I apologize and will be there as soon as possible." After a short visit to the Uchida house, that was.

"Good. Oh, and Ms. Noguchi---"

"Yes?"

"Find a proper change of clothes for the office."

He blipped out of existence before she could even respond. It was a good thing, too. Her patience was so thin at that point that any retort of hers would have no doubt canned her ass.

She sighed and noticed the watery form of Broken Tusk take shape into something corporeal. He grumbled.

"Good thing I have a change of clothes at the office. If you insist on following me, I'm heading to the Uchidas." She pivoted and stormed off towards the front door without a further remark.

Her heart fell as he followed.

* * *

The Uchida manor was a post-modernist's dream home. It was a sprawling structure that combined the best of western and Edo-era architecture with all the latest technological advances for private residences. The behemoth entryway was its own butler, able to scan anyone who stepped within ten feet of it for background records and prior notice of invitation before admitting them. Every single time that Machiko visited, she couldn't help but find the decadence exhibited by the Uchidas to be somewhat distasteful.

The monitoring system for the front door bid her to wait in a pleasant, feminine voice while it took in her identity by scanning her irises from a device located in a nearby pillar. She stood impatiently while the process was underway. After a moment, a mechanized whir could be heard as the doors to the residence slid aside.

"Welcome, Noguchi Machiko."

For all that Mr. Uchida had invested in that security unit, Machiko took a selfish satisfaction in the fact that a cloaked XT was able to slip by undetected as the doors held open long enough for them to pass through. That same satisfaction dissolved instantly once she was actually inside, however.

Blood. Someone… no, _several_ people's plasma decorated the marble floor of the foyer.

She froze. She couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't _think_---

Not again. There was never a respite. Never a motherfucking respite.

_Okaa-san… Otou-san…_

All at once, her nerves flared to life and she broke out of her state of shock. Machiko sprang forward and rounded the corner into what was a formal sitting room, ignoring the dismayed sound from the hunter behind her.

There had been a struggle. Broken furniture and decorations lay about like a tornado had ripped through the room. There was a broken window on the far wall, and the breeze blew the scent of pungent death to her nostrils.

Four bodies lay like broken dolls in various positions, dead where they had fallen. She took note of her mother first. The upper half of her body was flung across a coffee table with her head to the side. Two lifeless orbs stared directly at Machiko, burning her with their all-encompassing scrutiny that demanded she be blamed. Mrs. Noguchi was clutching a vase in her hand, but had never had the chance to throw it at her attacker. Now the arm connected to that hand just dangled off the edge of the table, shockingly pale against the blood on her skin.

Stifling a sob, Machiko tremulously found herself looking at Ms. Uchida next. She had died on her back, eyes flung wide open like her mother's. The difference in the two women was the expression. Where Mrs. Noguchi seemed to have her eyes trained accusingly towards whomever might step into the room from the foyer, Mrs. Uchida's face was frozen into a ghastly but silent scream. Her eyes were nearly rolled back into her head, as if the terror for whatever had ended her life was too much to bear.

The woman swayed and almost fell backward as her sanity threatened to leave her. Only a supportive hand on her back kept her upright now. Broken Tusk was making some noises, saying something, but she couldn't hear him anymore.

The two women had been disemboweled. Their innards were strewn about the room, most of it blackened and burned away into unrecognizable clumps of gut and flesh.

Beyond them were her father and Mr. Uchida. Unlike their wives, they did not suffer the same fate. There were holes in their chests, yes, but it was more like something had erupted from inside rather than something from the outside digging in---

"I'm sorry, Miriam." The voice that was hers and yet wasn't sounded scratchy and hollow. It came from Broken Tusk, but she had said it long ago on Ryushi when her friend and fellow colonist Dr. Miriam Revna died in an attack by the creatures that had been born from her father and Mr. Uchida.

The same ones that had killed their wives and then fled the scene. The same ones that Broken Tusk and his kind had brought to the planet.

She stepped out of the predator's grasp; she could not be consoled. Broken Tusk made an inquisitive sound at the back of his throat, but she paid it no heed. She began to walk and he did not follow. Machiko picked her way around the bodies of her parents and … no, just the _bodies_, and headed for Mr. Uchida's study in the west wing of the house. There was no expression on her face, just the deep set of her jaw and a slight furrow to her brow.

Mr. Uchida was an avid hunter – or had been. His study was a personal showcase that held the taxidermied heads of many lions, antelope, snow bear, and other exotic animals. It was here too under the high ceilings that he kept a personal arsenal. Machiko remembered the Uchida house from when she was small, and a memory came to her as she found the spare key taped on the underside of the gun cabinet.

_She was playing with Kouhei – hide and go seek. Kouhei was hiding, and she was seeking. She couldn't have been older than eight. After searching the entire house, the last place to look was Kouhei's father's study. Normally, the children were barred from that room and told never to enter. She remembered her fear as she approached the oak door to that forbidden place, and being surprised to find it cracked partway open. She had called out to Kouhei through the crack, she was sure of it. No answer. Opening the door just enough to slip inside, she remembered the feeling of true fear finding her for the first time. The animals all stared down at her, jeering her from their places on the walls. She didn't want to go in there. It was too scary – but she had to find Kouhei. Moving on tiptoe inside, she glanced about and tried not to look at the dead animal heads. They were watching her, tracking her. After looking about, she had decided the only plausible place for Kouhei to hide was the large oak cabinet at the other end of the room. Scared senseless, she had raced to it – reached up for the bronze pull and was amazed when the door swung aside. There were things in there, long and short things. Metal rods? There wasn't much time to think it over when Mr. Uchida appeared in the room, yelling at her for trespassing in a room he had told them not to enter. He was always high-strung, that man. She had fled the room, but not before she looked over her shoulder one last time, saw him crouch down, reach under the cabinet and pull out a key to lock the cabinet with…_

Now she was unlocking it. The old vision of the firearms came back fresh again, and she calmly reached for one that looked like a modified version of her rifle. The solid weight of the gun was comforting.

She did not lock the cabinet, but then Mr. Uchida could no longer voice his disapproval at her for being there.

He was dead.

With that in mind, she found the quiet place inside her where she used to go when training with Master Ko. Checking to see if the handgun was indeed loaded, she walked back to the sitting room where the _bodies_ were.

Broken Tusk had his back to her. He was examining some pictures of the Uchida family on the mantle atop the fireplace.

Between them were the bod… no, her _parents_ and the _Uchidas_. It was the final straw.

Machiko straightened her arm, sighted down the barrel---

---and pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

And here we go with Chapter 5! This story is being written only for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), so it'll end roughly past 50,000 words. That translates to about 12 chapters total, give or take. Just thought I'd give a heads up. Also, I want to thank everyone for the reviews they have been giving. Reviews keep me writing, so keep them coming!

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

**Chapter Five:**

When we two are parted:

_When we two parted  
In silence and tears,  
Half broken-hearted,  
To sever for years,  
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,  
Colder thy kiss;  
Truly that hour foretold  
Sorrow to this. _

The dew of the morning  
Sank chill on my brow  
It felt like the warning  
Of what I feel now.  
Thy vows are all broken,  
And light is thy fame:  
I hear thy name spoken,  
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,  
A knell to mine ear;  
A shudder comes o'er me  
Why wert thou so dear?  
They know not I knew thee,  
Who knew thee too well:  
Long, long shall I rue thee  
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met  
In silence I grieve  
That thy heart could forget,  
Thy spirit deceive.  
If I should meet thee  
After long years,  
How should I greet thee?  
With silence and tears.

-Lord Byron

* * *

Her heart beat a fast tempo within her chest, fluttering like a caged bird.

The gun fired.

She wasn't sure when she actually realized her error. It might have been in the second it took her to recover from the modified Sun Firestar's unexpected kickback. It might have been when she began to dive into a roll before firing again. She couldn't tell.

He had seen her behind him, calm death in her eyes and movements. Machiko's grave stance had been reflected in the large manor mirror above the fireplace where the predator had been studying the dead family's artifacts.

Broken Tusk had moved then with a vicious snarl, faster than she could keep up with her human sight. He cloaked immediately, and she fired furiously a second time into the direction he had vanished.

Five shots left.

The momentum of the roll she had thrown herself into landed her crouched on her feet. She gritted her teeth, bared them even, and kept the gun before her. Her breathing came hard and her eyes watered at the edges. She would not be deterred.

She had begun the dance. If she died, if he died - it was of no consequence. One of them would die, and that's all that mattered. She would either avenge the Uchidas and her parents or join them. Her options were black and white, and in this she put a grim resignation.

Straining her auditory sense, she listened. Nothing.

"Come out, big guy," she said, deadpan.

In some small corner of her mind she briefly wondered if he had ever considered what it would be like to hunt her.

The silence stretched on, and her initial drive began to wane. Her eyes flickered about the room and she slowly reversed on the balls of her feet.

A snort to her left. Her head turned.

Mistake.

Something glanced brutally off her right shoulder, knocking her off balance. She fell gracefully into the flurry of the fall, using it to her advantage before rolling to her feet. Her body flipped up and backward, landing two meters away from her original location. Machiko's sight fell on the area there, and she raised the gun to the tell-tale watery distortion of air.

The hidden warrior lunged---

Her finger found the trigger again. The bullet ricocheted off something solid while her shoulder throbbed like hell. There was a baritone grunt followed by a drawling hiss. Flecks of neon green sprinkled the carpet, interposing with the darker spots of human blood. The carpet took on the appearance of a grisly two-tone Splatter Art piece. An eccentric art connoisseur would no doubt pay top dollar for it at an auction if they knew what created it.

A small sense of morbid jubilation filled her. She had wounded him.

Machiko ignored the ache in her shoulder. Hell, her entire body ached - it couldn't be helped. She wasn't sure what her chances were against Broken Tusk, or even if she had a chance at besting him. He was taller and stronger by leaps and bounds. He had many different types of lethal weaponry on his person while she only had her gun and hand-to-hand skills. If she had any hope of outdoing him, it would rely solely on her speed and agility. Capture meant death.

Feigning to the left before retracing her steps and jumping right as he missed her by inches, the woman brought her gun up once more. Broken Tusk finally uncloaked himself for a reason that was beyond her fathoming and lifted an arm. His wrist blades sprang forth with a metallic ring, startling her. He hadn't had them extended before, which was unusual when he was fighting. Had he been trying to avoid hurting her?

The idea brought on a maddening rush of anger.

_He thinks I'm weak!_

There was no mistaking his intent now, however. His phosphorescent blood glowed from a wound in his side, just below the ribcage. She had only grazed him, by all appearances. Cursing her luck, she frowned and fired again. He emitted a guttural roar, which ended in a clicking noise reminiscent of clashing knives.

The handgun was knocked from her grasp in a movement faster than she had ever deemed him possible of generating. The bullet went wide, nearly missing his head while he followed through with a downward stroke. Machiko swallowed thickly and burned with embarrassment. The alien blades in his wrist gauntlets had been out to make his reach longer. He must have predicted from her earlier footwork that she liked to dance just out of the reach of her opponents before taking to the offense. Broken Tusk's swing had the potential to slice off her hand and take the gun with it, but apparently he had only aimed for the barrel of the revolver. The force and speed of the movement had done the rest in dislodging it from her grasp. Damn.

_Now I remember why he's a leader…_

One step back, then another. All at once there weren't any more steps left to take. Her back pressed to the wall behind her, and the predator before her advanced menacingly. There was a slight shortness to his gait, speaking of the damage she had dealt him.

_Alien guy wins, Machiko loses. Game over._

Her brain really didn't offer the best in condolences sometimes.

She didn't expect it to end this way; fighting Broken Tusk over the corpses of those she once held dear hadn't been the way she imagined beforehand. Her mind blazed with anger and hatred for what he had done - for what his race had done. It wasn't necessarily his fault, but he had been there in the Kamikaze when those _things_ that resembled overgrown arachnids had started latching on to the faces of innocent people. Machiko could only assume he had a hand in it.

_But he saved me. The mark…_

She released a short, self-deprecating bark of laughter just as he stopped within an inch of her and leered down. It was more than clear to her the reason she had been spared the fate of the others. That symbol he had carved into her temple on Ryushi had been some kind of initiation into his world. Not necessarily a welcome, but a rite of tolerance from his people. It would be comical - laughable even - had it been anyone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

How she hated him just then…!

She let her loathing reach her face. It welled up through every pore of her being; if he was to end her life now, she wanted him to know. The Japanese woman stared directly into his mask and mustered all the enmity she could into her lowered voice. "Are you going to remain behind your mask as you kill me? Coward." There was no practical purpose to her message, but she wanted one last jab at him before she died. It made her feel better, in an immature way. It was that last fleeting rush of endorphins, the brace before the break.

The predator's twin pair of irregular blades met with the plaster to the left of her head. She gave a surprised cry as a cloud of white dust exploded into her vision from the force of the impact. Her body flattened further against the wall at her back.

Machiko blinked several times past the remainder of the dust swirling between them, trying to refocus. Why hadn't he killed her yet? Was he toying with her like a cat with a mouse?

What happened next made her want to find a small, quiet place to die. She closed her eyes.

A sudden, indrawn breath from her---

"Machiko, look at me."

_---said her mother with the worried eyes, which was the one on the ground---_

---and her eyes flew open again. She wanted to cry, hide, become nothing. She was so _tired_.

He had been with her all along. On the ship, in her home, and then to the nightmare in the nightclub. He didn't want her dead. He was trying to keep her alive.

Machiko looked at him and seemingly through him.

_Why!_, her mind sobbed. She wanted to be with her parents, with the Uchidas, with the rest of humanity. To be singled out and special was too painful. Special hurt. Special meant she was on his side, on _their_ side. _Not me. Anyone but me…_

The muscled forearm that had pinned itself to the wall beside her face extricated itself slowly. He meant her no harm.

She wanted to _scream and scream and scream_.

His knives slid back into the sockets of the gauntlet. He reached up to remove the hoses connected to his mask. There was a pressurized hiss.

_No_, she thought vehemently,_ go back to the hell you belong to._

Now the other hand raised to help the first remove the mask.

_**Stop.**_

Machiko twisted her head away, forced herself to look at a portrait of a young Kouhei grinning at her on the mantle above the fireplace. She could swear he understood the cosmic joke that she endured just by the pleased grin plastered on his face.

"Machiko, look at me." Her mother's faint voice addressed her again. The woman winced. Why couldn't he expand on his vocabulary elsewhere? Why did he have to use the haunting voices of those she had loved and lost all too abruptly?

A quick but small pain lanced up her nervous system.

He had pinched her nearest earlobe between a thumb and forefinger.

Reacting to the unexpected sensation with annoyance, her head rotated to face his and her hand came up to slap his away. Tears stung her eyes again, just when she thought it was impossible to cry anymore than she already had. Her breakdowns seemed to come in short episodes that were slowly building towards something earthshaking. She felt it.

Funny, how he was exactly as she remembered him to be. As he let his hand fall away she was left to stare at him, her eyes roving over his inhuman features while he clicked quietly.

He was still ugly, she mused somberly. Did he think the same of her? Probably.

Broken Tusk was regarding her fiercely from beneath his mottled brow ridges, and for an insane moment she noted that his eyes were yellow with flecks of darker amber. She couldn't recall seeing that before on Ryushi. Why did she really care, anyways?

The warrior's bright eyes flickered over her face and she began to grown uncomfortable by the close scrutiny. His mandibles flared slightly once or twice, and then he began to…

…purr?

She blinked rapidly.

Was he _purring_ at her? It sounded far from the noise a housecat would make, but it was unmistakable.

"What…" the human began, slipping sideways and skirting around him. Her eyes remained on his and he thankfully didn't follow her. She crossed the distance to the fireplace and picked up the picture of Kouhei from the mantle. With shaky hands she held the portrait up and tapped it feverishly with one nail. If anything, she couldn't do the dead a disservice by losing her ire.

"See him? See _this_? He was with me in the club. He _died_ because of those bugs you let loose." Machiko then gestured to the prone forms of her parents and the Uchidas. She made sharp slashing motions at her throat and then pointed accusingly to the claw of the alien still slung on the predator's armor. Lastly, she lifted her index finger and pointed to _him_. It was his fault.

That caused him to growl and step forward. She held her ground as he snatched the photo frame from her hands and held it up with one hand while the other cradled his mask. While he was busy with this, she picked up the family portrait of the Uchidas he had been studying before she shot him. Putting it next to the one he held, she made quick gestures between both glassed snapshots and then made motions to the dead on the floor.

"That's them."

The warrior seemed to get it - that or he had already drawn the connection for himself when he was studying the pictures earlier. In a manner that was almost reverent he carefully put the photo of Kouhei back on the mantle. She followed his example.

"See?"

To her surprise, he nodded and dipped his head. He purred again.

_That's really unsettling._

Machiko just stared at him awkwardly. Now what? How did one deal with an eight-foot extraterrestrial who seemed to accept the blame graciously? That wasn't in any one manual that she had seen while taking her executive courses before Ryushi.

Did he even comprehend that she was accusing him of his role in the matter?

As if he had read her thoughts, he gave a loud snort. He began probing the bullet wound at his side cautiously before looking to her again.

Now she was the one being leveled with the implicating stare.

Machiko threw up her hands in frustration. "What did you expect?" she shot back. For the first time she felt a twang of guilt and found she disliked it immensely. She had no blame in this; she was guiltless. There was also a lack of sense in arguing with an interstellar life form that didn't speak any human language save for what it recorded. Although he appeared to understand what he played back at her, did he really? It was hard to be sure.

There was no time to consider it, anyway. She needed to notify the authorities before her parents began to stink.

_Oh, god…_

No, she wouldn't dwell on that again. She didn't need to be reminded - there was enough physical evidence strewn all about her as it was.

It would be no easy task. The tension between Broken Tusk and herself had dissipated for the time being and she felt safe enough in knowing that.

"I need to call the cops," Machiko announced, "so you had better fade away."

He fixed her with what could be a humorous expression. His mandibles opened and shut silently, and then he trilled.

She just scoffed at him. Turning away, she took a few steps forward and glanced back over her shoulder.

He was gone.

A sigh emanated from deep in her lungs and then she stated, "Visuals, please."

Unlike the Noguchi home, the Uchida manor was outfitted with channeling monitors in all rooms. They were not attached in certain areas to a blank section of wall but mounted in the ceiling instead. The screen for the parlor unfolded from a discreet sliding panel above her and unrolled itself to a full length a short distance away. The screen blipped, floundered, and then burst to life. The manor's main computer spoke to her then, the same voice she had encountered from the entryway.

"Specify program, channel, or directive."

Fancy-schmancy.

"I need to be put on a direct channel with TPD."

"Affirmative. Processing request…"

The flat view shook with black and white snow before clearing and lighting in on an operator of the TPD, or Tokyo Police Department. The operator was a chubby woman with a matronly air. She appeared a bit frazzled. Folding her hands before her, the woman squinted past Machiko and seemed to notice the disarray in the background immediately. "This is TPD. May I ask the reason for your call?"

"I…" Machiko trailed, suddenly at a loss for words. She was exasperated by now and had already reacted horribly to the sight of the bodies. It would do her good to replay that reaction for the operator, but she couldn't muster the energy.

In the end, she just sounded fed up.

"My parents are dead. So are the people that live here. I was invited over and arrived late… there's been a struggle. I think one of those things…"

"The creatures? We've been getting calls on them all night, dear. No one has been able to capture one to confirm their existence… certainly no one here. We've had spottings aplenty, though… and many hurt or killed."

Relief sank in her heart and held her emboldened to the idea that she wouldn't be accused of murdering four people. "I see. It would be great if…" Machiko lost her train of thought again and sat on the verge of tears. She wouldn't cry again. _No_.

The kindly two-dimensional woman before her tipped her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry about your loss. As of now, all our people are out there on duty. We do not have enough to cover everything that is happening at once. It's complete chaos. There's rioting, looting…" the operator began ticking off all the problems on one of her hands, "…injuries substained from looting, unexplained deaths, aliens running amuck in the city…"

Machiko bit back a low moan. "That means…"

"It means that we'll get to your parents when we can. Until then we have our hands full. Can I have the address?"

She proceeded to fill the operator in on all of the details, sometimes backtracking to repeat a numeral or two. When all was said and done, the operator wished her a good day and ended the conversation.

_Yeah, it's been a real fucking good day alright._

The urge to hit something or someone shot beneath her skin, leaving her with a few tremors of undirected adrenaline. Forcing it back down, she stepped carefully across the room and scanned the ruined carpet for her handgun. She found it near the collapsed form of her father. It was most difficult to bend over beside his body and ignore the fact that this person had once helped her with her math homework.

Picking up the gun and moving away hastily, she glanced around for Broken Tusk. There was nothing out of the ordinary that she could pick up, nothing that pointed to a certain corner where his cloaked form rippled to indicate his position. "Broken Tusk?" she called carefully, wondering if he would answer to that. Her mind strained to remember the odd pronunciation he had tried to have her get her tongue around back on Ryushi. She was sure it was his real name, but she had mangled it so badly that calling him Broken Tusk had simply been the easier route to take.

_What was it, what was it…_

"Daah-shaann-dae?"

Nothing. She tried again, feeling ridiculous for it. It had been a failure the first time she had tried, what made her think she would get it right now?

"Dah-shann-dae?" This was impossible.

"Dah-shann-day." Broken Tusk was behind her. The name was said in the same primal manner that he used with 'Dahtoudi'. It was a noise that started at the back of the throat - a guttural sound that was akin to a growl. Hell, it was a growl. The only difference stood in listening closely for fluctuations made with the tongue.

…_And I thought German was bad._

Spinning around on her heel, she could not stop the small smile that pulled tight at her face. It was short-lived, however, when she noticed that there was some strange blue substance smeared across the small wound she dealt him. His blood was no longer pasted to his person - he had cleaned that up and applied the blue gel in the time she had been speaking to the operator. Where had he gone? Odd.

"Dah-shann-day," she repeated.

Broken Tusk clacked his mandibles at that, appearing pleased with the progress. He tapped at the missing part of his lower mandible and said his name a second time.

_Ah, so Dahshannday must hold the same meaning as Broken Tusk._

Machiko felt a small burst of pride. She had failed to pronounce it right back on Ryushi, but that was expected in a situation where death lurked right beyond the doorway. It was hard to concentrate on anything at all in that environment.

Death had already happened here. They were exempt until they stepped outside.

The prospect was not appealing.

Nodding up to Brok--- no, _Dahshannday_, she conveyed that she understood. He reached out, patted her roughly on the head like an obedient dog and began to reconnect his mask to his face.

What really bugged her was that she had not thought to knock his arm away until after the fact.

No matter, she would make a note of it for next time. The important thing was to call in to work next. There was no way she was going anywhere until the proper authorities showed up for the bodies.

Apparently Dahshannday had other ideas.

He grabbed her by her nearest upper arm once his mask was once more in place, hauling her forward a few steps towards the foyer. He gave an impatient growl when she dug her heels in and shook her head stubbornly.

"No, I have to stay here!"

The growling became insistent now, and for the first time she noticed it carried stops and pauses, highs and lows to it. Just like when he spoke his name…

_Wait._

He was attempting to talk to her. He wasn't growling just because he was angry, as a human or animal would. This was his language, the way he communicated to others of his kind.

The predator was trying to tell her something. By the looks of it, he was frustrated too.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling stupid for not realizing it before.

He promptly let go of her arm and hit a few buttons on his wrist. A familiar hologram blueprint rose into the air, shimmering with electric red lines. It was the Chigusa Corp. skyscraper in the commerical sector of Tokyo. It was the place she was supposed to head to work that morning.

_What the hell…_

"You want to go there?"

He paused as if considering her inquiry. After a second or two he dipped his head.

"But…"

She couldn't just leave her parents and the Uchidas on the floor, could she? Something about abandoning them a second time struck a bad chord within her that she could not shake. On the other hand, TPD _did_ have her coordinates. They would be by eventually.

Dahshannday issued a deep bark. There was no debating this.

"Fine." It was a curt response, one meant to represent her intolerance of his impatience. "I doubt Smudge Stewart would want me dawdling any longer… dead parents or not." It wasn't like she was _bitter_ or anything.

He turned triumphantly, striding out of the manor with a confidence she wished she had. Machiko followed in his wake like a petulant child, sullen and stiff. This had easily been the worst day of her life.

What she didn't account for just yet was that it was far from over…


	6. Chapter 6

-1Okay, so I made a deal with Solain that if she would update 'Solitary Trial' (which she did, and wonderfully at that) I would update this fic. It's been a while and I'm trying to get up to speed again, so I'm sorry for the long wait. Also, some of you have informed me that Machiko's father committed suicide and her mother remarried. This was a little fact I overlooked in the book, so from now on in the official Quiet-O-Verse Machiko's father wasn't a suicide and the Noguchis are still happily married (dead now, but hey - can't win 'em all).

**Desiderata**

**by**

**Quietharm**

**Chapter Six:**

Excerpt from One of the Hunted:

_In the temples of nature  
I hear the laughter  
Just another victim on  
This lonely trail  
They show no emotion for  
This loss of life  
It reminds me of myself not long ago  
And the cries for life that  
I'd seem to ignore  
The cries for life are now  
My very own _

One of the hunted  
The tables have turned  
One of the hunted  
There's nowhere to run  
One of the hunted  
The tables have turned  
One of the hunted  
There's nowhere to run

-Kamelot

* * *

Machiko stared down the empty street, wondering how to begin. The pavement stretched to a small pinpoint on an acrid horizon, blurred by the smoke wafting through the air. It wasn't beginnings that she feared, it was the cloudy distance - the unforeseeable end to things.

It should have been such a small, simple thing to merely begin walking. To walk away from the Uchida household and the comforting memories of her parents and childhood, all laying behind her in shattered disarray. Someone had rattled the walls by slamming a door on that aspect of her life and a figurative family portrait had fallen from its place on the wall. The mistake of the moment had been made, and it crashed to the ground in shards of glass and splintered wood.

She heard sibilant voices of the past chastising her for the mess, but the mess was made.

_Ashes to ashes, we all fall down. _

If only she could rest and lay down. Her bones would settle with her thoughts, and she would dream. It would be an endless dream, a dream of a world before this one where she was on the precipice of discovering herself. Before Ryushi, before the predators. That time when she was a university student had been her most liberating - still a girl, not yet fully a woman. The framed depiction of her life as it was before the horrors would be squared quite nicely again, the smiles of her family bright and _alive_.

Yet-

-still two-dimensional. Not real, not here, not _now_.

Never again.

Life was survival, life was realizing what she had while she had it and not reliving or wishing on instances that had gone. They were brief snapshots in an eternity of humanity, flickering in and out of existence like slides on an old film reel. None survived without the ones before them, and none would repeat. Those moments took her to this present one, and in this period of time that she currently accepted as reality she made a grim resolution. It was revenge, after all. She believed it would be far worse to die without making the attempt than to die within it.

The bugs would be stopped. If the predators were indeed the source from whence they came, then she would not stop until every last one of them lay rotting.

That _included _the one at her side.

"You can't come with, you know," she mentioned quietly.

The large yautja snorted once. They had walked back to Machiko's household in the meantime, and now both stood in front of the Noguchi's carport. The Noguchis owned several transport vehicles, some designed mainly for pleasure and some for the complete opposite. The last thing Machiko felt like doing was cruising to work in a sporty hovercar, which was the one vehicle within the selection that she actually claimed ownership of. Her mind skipped that option and fell absently upon the choice that had been her mother's own personal ride to and from her social events. The beige hovercar was small for a family-sized vehicle, but it had served the small Noguchi clan well in its prime. It was a high-end but nondescript, fuel-efficient but unable to sustain high speeds.

_Fine with me. I'm in no hurry to get to work anyways._

"I mean it. For one, Chigusa is pretty far from here. Walking is out of the question. That leads me to reason number two… you won't fit in a standard hovercar. You'll have to find your own way there."

_I can't believe I'm reasoning with him. I can't…_

Her mind snapped into silence when he gave a low trill and a curt nod. She had expected a fight, a refusal, _something_ - not easy compliance on a first-time request.

"Huh? So… so you'll meet me there, then?" How he would even go about doing so was beyond her fathoming. Did he just call for Scottie to beam him up or was there another way about it?

There was a speculative span of seconds before the hologram of the corporation burst forth from his wrist again. He tapped it once with his opposite hand and the image dissolved with a crackle as if it had never been there in the first place.

Another inhuman nod, and then he reached across the space between them and centered his first two taloned fingers directly against the brand on her forehead. The pads of his fingers seemed too hot to withstand, and she instinctively took a step in reverse. For this action she was dealt a swift pinch on her earlobe as he had done earlier.

Scuttling back with even more haste and hoping her ear would be released in the process, Machiko watched in dumbfounded silence as he emitted a clear trill. He let go of her ear the moment she began to back away, and regarded her for several moments before turning himself. Like a watery apparition, he stepped through the air and was swallowed up by the unseen.

It would be so nice, to disappear like that.

She was left standing in front of her home, alone and wondering why the feeling of his fingers pressed to her temple was more immediate than the urge to break down and cry.

* * *

Chigusa corporation was a large complex in the heart of the Marunouchi district. It sprawled both upwards and outwards over several city blocks, a mini-city of glass and steel. Separate sky rises were connected by walkways far above the sidewalks and chaos in the streets below.

The visitor's center was unsurprisingly closed, but a few employees still hazarded their way into work via a quieter route thick with security measures. At least twelve cybernetic automatons stood in the parking pod, their firearms held in an upright position. They remained unmoving, poised in a perfect line at the first checkpoint that all Chigusa drones had to pass. The cost of one was more than Machiko made in a year's salary, which explained their absence on any other planet save Earth. Still a prototype, they had been bequeathed from their creators a level of intelligent thought that had preset rules and designations for the art of combat. They knew a number of fighting styles and military tactics inherently, but as an added measure they could also be controlled via human influence from a control center deep within Chigusa's labyrinths.

They were called P.U.R.E., oddly enough. It was an ironic western acronym given their real name, which boasted even more prowess than Machiko would be apt to give them - Peerless Unilateral Robotic Enlisted.

Machiko swallowed as she exited her mother's hovercar from her pre-designated parking area. She approached the sleek guardians, her gaze wandering over their cylindrical heads and the glow of their unblinking yellow eyes. Their build was humanoid, but their appearance was most certainly not. There had been a news story some weeks ago covering P.U.R.E. and Chigusa's newest aim to make them appear more 'friendly' for security use in the visitor's center and other public places. Twelve were present here, but Chigusa no doubt had many, many more in his arsenal.

"Unidentified approach. Please confirm identity." A disembodied man's voice streamed through the air, overriding the pleasant concert music being piped in from well-placed speakers.

"Noguchi, Machiko. Employee badge #33238A," she replied with just as much monotone.

"Badge #33238A found. Please step forward for calibration and confirmation."

The Japanese woman did so with a sigh, ignoring the sightless stares from the P.U.R.E. group. A robotic arm lowered from a panel above in the ceiling, and aligned with Machiko's face. The end of the arm had what appeared to be a clear, rectangular sheet of iridescent glass attached to it. It was this object that she put her face up to, her eyes moving so close that her eyelashes clicked against the cool plane. Light flooded her vision. The machine scanned her retinas as it was designed to do in a matter of seconds before retracting back into the ceiling from whence it had come.

"Confirmation complete. Please proceed."

Anxious to move away from the P.U.R.E. sentinels, Machiko did not waste one second in removing herself from the parking pod as the steel door before slid open. Beyond this door was yet another checkpoint, but thankfully with a human being present. About a year ago Chigusa had been infiltrated by a rival company who had passed the first checkpoint by copying the retina pattern of a pre-existing employee and imprinting it into a pair of contacts. The details of how they had managed to secure the pattern in the first place was beyond her knowledge, but Chigusa had more than it's fair share of whistleblowers and deranged employees in the past. After a thorough investigation, arrests were made and things quieted down again.

Needless to say, a human guard had been implemented to check the ID of every Chigusa employee from that point on. Some said it was primitive and a P.U.R.E. could do it just as easy if not with more accuracy if one or two were reprogrammed, but the CEO had mandated it himself. No one argued with Chigusa.

"Ms. Noguchi, how's the weather?" The grandfatherly voice belonged to a man in his mid-60's who sat behind a pristine white receptionist desk in the middle of a long white room. In fact, the entire chamber resembled a sterile sanatorium cell save for the splash of color that was the guard and his computer screen. He sat slouched on an office chair in front of his computer, calmly tap-tapping the stub of his eraser against a written report. Intermittently, he would chew at the stub with blunt yellow teeth while a rain of wet eraser shavings fluttered down and landed upon his paperwork.

"It's…"

_How's the weather?_

People were dying left and right outside in the streets. She had taken a butcher knife from the kitchen before leaving home because it was the only form of weapon she had left. The skirmish at the Uchida household had left her once again sans firearm. In the aftermath she had been too absent-minded to go back for another one of Mr. Uchida's pretties. She regretted that now, she really did.

Presently, however, she was definitely thinking that perhaps the company CEO had made a dreadful mistake. A P.U.R.E. _could_ do better.

"It's fine, Mr. Hiroyuki." Her voice came pleasantly, evenly, and in the end that pleased her.

_Keep yourself collected, girl. A lot has happened, some people have died, but you're at work now._

God, something was stinging the corners of her eyes.

"That's good. I heard there's some pretty crazy shit going down out there, pardon my language."

"You would be wise to direct yourself in a more befitting manner in the future, Mr. Hiroyuki." The ice queen was back.

"Sorry, Ms. Noguchi. I never did think you were one for language…"

_If only he really knew._

"…but I'd get a change of clothes if… well, I wouldn't go into work like that…"

Machiko gave the elderly guard a dark look. "My business is my own. Do you need my identification card or may I continue on?"

The guard dropped his eyes at her black mood, unable to casually look upon her drawn features a moment longer. If looks could kill, she would have achieved the effect. Nervously, the man began to chew faster upon the end of his pencil while waving her on with his freehand. He obviously wanted her to move along as much as she did.

"No, no, I'd know who you are any day."

"Thank you."

_What does he mean by that?_

She had been somewhat bitchier to old Hiroyuki than usual, but after everything she felt she had earned the right. Before her mission to Ryushi, she had worked within the complex for a number of years and had always shown the old man indifference at most - but he had been stationed at the visitor's center then and their paths did not cross often.

What he most likely would attribute to PMS paled in comparison to the hell she had been through in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe she would apologize to him later - maybe.

Hurrying on without a backward glance, Machiko left the guard to devour his pencil while she took the elevator to the 45th floor.

* * *

The moment the elevator chimed was the moment Machiko exhaled a breath of air she hadn't realized she was holding. She exited the elevator, her sneakers squeaking and echoing down the empty hallways. Like the second checkpoint, the décor and any form of color was seriously lacking.

Alone, she winded her way down the straight and narrow corridors without seeing another form of life. Staving off the creeping notion that she was being watched, she came to cease any forward motion once she reached a door at the end of the east wing. It was just like every other door that lined the hallway save for the small brass plate beside it.

It read, 'WOMEN'S LOCKERS'. Her hand darted out and turned the knob a bit faster than was her normal speed. She slipped through the aperture she created, and firmly shut the door behind her by bodily leaning against it with a heavy sigh.

A hand absently touched her forehead, where behind her mark a burgeoning headache threatened to eclipse whatever little comfort she had left. Wincing a bit, Machiko stepped away from the door and blinked several times to adjust to the garish lighting conditions.

The women's locker room was a long room that appeared just as deserted as the hallway it was connected to. A long line of lockers stretched unbroken on either side of the walls to her right and left, separated by two rows of low benches cemented into the floor. At the end of the room was a public shower area and yet another open room that took a sharp turn and stretched on to the left. Steel sinks and stalls could be found there, each identical and in pristine condition. In fact, Machiko could never remember a time before Ryushi that she had found the locker room in any small form of disarray. The janitorial staff in the building worked like thieves in the night, stealing into the public restrooms and office spaces with little or no notice by their white-collar kin. It was the unfortunate plight of the lower classes, that invisibility.

Shaking her head as if to clear it of her inane thoughts, she made her way to a locker on the right side, near the door. She had visited the headquarters not long after landing planetside in order to be assigned a locker and office, a feat that had lasted a few hours before she was allowed to finally return home. The password to the locker and her office had been given to her then and further sent to her home as a reminder.

Now she found herself attempting to remember it.

"823123?" she murmured, and then shook her head when the combination failed on the locker's keypad.

_Maybe it was 823321... yes…_

The locker trilled in acceptance and she swung the small metal door aside in satisfaction.

Wait.

Now it was her turn to swing around. Machiko did a complete one-eighty, and then wheeled around a second time when her vision refused to identify anything else in the immediate vicinity save herself. Nervously, her eyes flicked about the room in speculation before she saw the door to the hallway open and close by its own accord.

No, not by its own will. _Dahshannday's will._

He had come into the locker room with her and she hadn't even noticed it. Granted, she had felt unease in the hallway, but that was the only time she had felt the nagging sensation of being observed. Had he been in the elevator with her? In the parking pod?

_We were supposed to meet here, but does he have to be such a stalker about it? Why is this place so important to him, anyways?_

Not wasting another second, she dove for the door just as it clicked and yanked it open violently. Her head jerked out into the hallway, but she saw nothing. No tell-tale watery distortion, nothing.

"Dahshannday!" she called, her tremulous tenor ringing in vain down the empty corridors.

No reply.

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to curse his very existence then and there - but she didn't want the hive to wonder if their newest worker bee was a bit touched in the head on the off chance someone _was_ within earshot.

More than disgruntled, the young woman backed up into the confines of the locker room once again and made a beeline for her locker once more. A neatly folded gray business suit lay within, along with a pair of black heels, a few toiletries, and hose she had stashed there on her initiation day.

Machiko removed the articles of clothing and handled them gingerly. The three-piece suit was nothing fancy, but it was formal enough. It was comprised of a white blouse, single-breasted jacket, and matching skirt. Tucking these under one arm, she fished out the heels and package of hose next before turning for the stalls at the end of the room. She chose one of the handicap stalls at the long end of the procession, merely for the added room needed to make changing a more timely procedure.

She changed quickly. Her fingers were a flurry of movement across the buttons of her blouse and jacket, and then she was sliding into the skirt. The hose came next, and she hopped around on one leg during a bad moment of lost balance. Once she was positive that she was not sporting any runs in the delicate material, she stepped into the high heels. They were uncomfortable but fashionable, bearable if she did not spend great lengths of time on her feet. Thankfully, this was usually the case.

Machiko left the stall and moved to the sinks. A dollop of soap later and her hands were submerged beneath the bubbly froth produced by the pressure of the hot water hitting the cleanser. Once her hands ran clean of foam, she risked a glance up to the long, rectangular mirror hanging above the sinks.

She really had to stop looking at her reflection.

Her appearance hadn't improved much since the last time she had chanced to examine herself. A large bruise ran across her lower jaw, proof that purples and greens clashed with light skin tones. Cuts riddled her face beyond that, and there was a swelling above her right eye that she hadn't noticed before.

Yeah, she _really_ had to stop looking at her reflection.

Hot water hit her face and she flinched from both the temperature and pain it caused to the injuries. She cupped her hands under the running water again, creating a shallow basin before repeating her previous action. Her reaction was less now, numb as she was both inside and out. Wisely ignoring the mirror this time, she went for a the disposable towel vendor and grabbed a wad before padding at her face. Water ran down her chin in small streams, and she hastily caught these errant droplets in the paper towel mass before licking the moisture collected about her lips with her tongue.

She tasted salt.

Crying. She was fucking crying again. Damnit -

It didn't stop, either. It continued unbidden, coursing down her cheeks as she whirled around to face the drowning woman in the accursed mirror. Now her cheeks were puffed and red atop everything else, her nose flared and those shitty tears were still running freely down her fucking face.

_Motherfucking goddamnit._

She hurled the wad at the grotesque image that was her reflection and it exploded into a confetti-like rain of wet paper. Spinning on her heel, Machiko took one long stride and resubmitted herself to the handicap stall. The door slammed behind her, rebounding off the hinge before swinging widely again. She didn't care by that point, and turned to the porcelain bowl in front of her instead for assistance. Her breakdown only descended into dry heaves, and she gripped the sides of the toilet as her body went through the motions of retching even though the efforts were fruitless. Whatever she had last eaten had been digested thoroughly nearly a day before.

Machiko's mind couldn't completely comprehend her state, but she knew it had something to do with seeing herself so fully realized in the mirror. It made her nightmare suddenly real, the realization that those few that she had known and loved were now gone from the world and would never again walk it.

_Okaa-san will never make brownies again._

Her body shuddered deeply.

_I'll never again read the paper with Otou-san on Sundays._

She convulsed.

_I'll never seen Kouhei's smile again. I loved that smile._

Her fingers flexed and slipped on the slick surface of the porcelain rim as another tremor shook her stomach. She coughed, spitting up bloody phlegm but nothing else. The impact of the projectile against the water within the toilet bowl disrupted her semi-transparent image. For this she was secretly glad.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

Machiko's spine stiffened at a high voice from directly behind her hunched form. Her head turned too quickly; a pain shot through her temple. The threat of a headache from before had blossomed into a fully-fledged migraine. Her own mortification at being found thus was far worse than the headache ever could be.

Through blurred vision she could ascertain that the voice belonged to a young woman around her own age. The other woman stood in the open gap where the stall door should have been, one hand holding the door aside and the other reaching across the small space separating them. She appeared hesitant, almost as if she wanted to touch Machiko's back but was waiting for permission.

"I saw towels all over the floor, and then I heard… are you okay?" The newcomer's voice was urgent, concerned, and everything one would expect it to be upon discovering a retching woman huddled over toilet.

Machiko licked her lips, noting the lack of sensation found there. She coughed a little again, clearing her throat before reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth off with.

"I'm…" she managed breathlessly, before redoubling her efforts against the bowl once more.

"Easy, easy," the stranger said, finally laying a comforting hand against Machiko's back. She randomly rubbed and patted, and soon Machiko was still once more. "Done?"

Machiko closed her eyes and nodded once in grim resignation as her mind resettled itself. The pressure on her back disappeared for a matter of seconds before returning, and with her other hand the woman offered the her a bundle of fresh towels. Machiko accepted these gratefully, and swiped at her mouth in a hasty effort to clean it. "Thank you."

"No problem. Are you sick? You shouldn't be here if you are."

"No, not sick. I…" Pinwheels dotted her vision. "Do you have aspirin, by chance?"

"Of course." A few muffled sounds filled the air as the woman rummaged around in her bag. Machiko could hear the telltale rattle of pills in a bottle and the unscrewing of a cap. "Here. Go to the sink and get something to drink before swallowing."

_I know that._

Immediately, she rebelled against her caustic mental reply. Whomever the woman was, she was genuinely interested in helping Machiko.

"Thanks," she mumbled before standing up. The other woman gripped her by the shoulders and helped her to hobble the short distance from the stall to the sink. Machiko dipped her head with no small effort and used her hands as she had done earlier to create a small basin to collect water in. This time she brought it to her lips, sipping it carefully before accepting two pills from her companion.

Swallowing wasn't too hard, and neither was scooping up more water to scrub her face with. She rubbed hard at her cheeks, trying to wash away the dirt that wasn't there. More water was taken in, only to be swished around in her mouth and spat out again.

"God," was all she could say. With the clean arm of her jacket she wiped wearily at her eyes, clearing her eyesight.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I've been better."

A sound of disbelief countered her reply, and Machiko almost smiled. Almost.

"My name is Chiyo. I work on this floor, if you were wondering."

"I'm Machiko."

"I haven't seen you before." A pause. "Are you new?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Thanks again."

"I would hope that someone would stop for me if I were in your position."

Machiko finally looked up, noting her helper's light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her face was a mixture of Caucasian and Asian ancestry, that much was evident. Chiyo wasn't stunning, but she did have a conventional arrangement of features that could be described as pretty.

"I suppose so."

An awkward silence filled the air, and then Chiyo adjusted the expensive purse she carried on her shoulder.

"Well, I had better get to work. If you need anything, let me know. Before Machiko had registered the movement, she was being offered a business card.

She accepted it robotically, and nodded.

The other woman paused, stopping in the space between what hung unsaid and what could be said.

After a minute she turned and walked away. The rhythmic sound of her heels carried on for a space of seconds, and then the door to the hall closed and shut out any further noise.

Machiko stood dumbly, staring at her toes. She sniffled.

At that point, the questions were more than the answers she knew. The rough, sandpapery feel of her rescuer's business card lay pinched between her thumb and forefinger, grounding her in the present.

She stood in Chigusa's locker room bathed in bright light from above, but she had never felt more lost and damned.


End file.
